The Essential Death

*I overlooked this prose for years because it is dark, however it is truly existential. I have often thought that one would not get out of bed lest to stoke the fire that had gone out. We only do things because we must.

Pause to consider eternal life.

Each day, if that is the measure, nothing need be done.

One will not die for crops not sown.

Nor hunger filled for crops not grown

The rain will not drench by the house not built.

And, babes will not cry for a mother’s milk.

Consider a dreamer with desire to paint.

Eternal time is no constraint.

Ponder the dream for days and days.

For the canvas shines so many ways.

Whether I paint with color or passion,

I have no concern for the modern fashion.

Thus, I wait for another day,

to see what dreams may come my way.

And thus, nothing is done except ponder.

Now, does even pondering have times constraint?

What if I ponder for days and days that turn into

years and years or millennia upon millennia?

So, what is the measure of time and what needs must be accomplished?

How must I perform and most paramount is it I that must do?

Now wrap yourself up in comfort, oh ye of labor, for you have done conscience bidding. It has been thrust upon you in a manner of teaching, though it was not your request. You were born from oblivion as the quintessential guest.

And I dream to be free from sowing crops and building with thatch

to prevent the rain from coming in for there is time to paint my painting of a song sung with refrain.

Would you do anything unless you must? Thus, death gives you necessity.

Necessity to work with in your day and finish what must be done before you die.

Now if you are an immortal soul you will understand the necessity of time verses timelessness.

The differential of having and not having makes your life expedient and yet only patience will see it through for if all things happen in zero time then nothing would be.

This dichotomy like death is essential.

Cognizance and Kindness

No one told you that the prerequisite to be a human entity was to be judged, but then you must first be made in flesh and bone before you can be asked the question of the prerequisite to your existence is to be judged as to your right to exist at all.

            For this God is sorry that you could not be asked if you want to exist prior to your creation. Now for God to be sorry for not asking you a priori is substantial. Such that his condemnation for such responsibility required his own death.

            How could one know a priori that one offends unless first the error of offence is experienced and only posteriori can one make amends.

            Glory may just be this, that God a priori apologized for your suffering and took upon himself the complete punishment for having created death and judgement and salvation and forgiveness for the creation of an entity which is you, for which God hoped to commune except that forgoing his creation was ignorant.

            Omnipotence conceived a realm in which sacrifice, and punishment befell upon itself to pay for all sin and death and judgement. Existence itself is juxtaposed against this differential. How can complete judgement not be tyrannical? How could anyone be free if continually judged? And, if God created man for his own companion, likened unto himself, free and autonomous, how could that be accomplished under continual judgement.

            Cognizance.

Unrighteousness is self-incriminating, and unkindness is self-evident. An omnipotent God provided a way around ignorance, it is called forgiveness. You would not punish a child for its ignorance and thus they learn and not fear their parent.

            If it is not of kindness, it is not of God.

              

Eternity Waits

The sun rose today like any other day.

But, nothing happened.

No murder, no death, no tragedy.

What if eternity were days and days where nothing happened?

Could it be that the mundane reality of eternity is nothing but day after day of no events, with the sun rising and setting?

Albeit with glorious color and sweet aroma of flora and salt air, with waves thrashing the shore and sunset sweeping to reveal the stars and a full moon rising?

A cool breeze came across the ocean and the smell of the bounty of the sea was enticing and comforting with the aroma of the eternal, yet nothing happened today, no murder, no death, no tragedy in the human realm.

                All the earth is subject to the human realm.

               But they conceived this day with murder and death and tragedy and the sun rose and set, and the ocean waves churned and eternity waits for fools who could learn but refuse.

Where Love is made

For this is where love is made.

For I have tried my children in the fire of infirmity; in the incomprehensible pain of the flesh.

They are left alone in the dark without guidance or light to see.

I must at my own anguish leave them alone to see, to see if they are of mine own sinew.

If they are of mine own, if they are of mine heart, they will surely, truly be kindred.

Love cannot be demanded only offered and it is only seen through longing.

In the midst of love it is squandered and taken for granted and thus it is only seen when lost.

For in the differential of having and not having is the realization and true definition that gives love its deepest meaning.

Thus the reason for the universe and all existence is love and a God who incomprehensibly demanded it and went away in anguish for this tyrannical demand.

There can be no other way. You must lose to gain. You must die to live.

And, a God in heaven alone is the God of nothing.

You think this is without design, that all of existence just happened?

Look deep and you will see your want; your want to be, your want to go somewhere, your want to do something, your want rise above this earthly, fleshly, limited realm.

You want.

You want to reach someone, to tell someone, to hear someone, to be recognized by someone and to recognize someone.

And a God in heaven alone is the God of nothing.

While the frustration of your limited time, and your frustration with your limited ability and your frustration with others ability to understand your frustration, your reaching, your longing to do and accomplish and to aid and comfort and fix the ills of all is so sorrowfully misunderstood.

So this is where love is made, when you are dried up and all you strength is gone in your anguish to demand love. You came with all your heart to do that spirit that is in you, that thing that you are, this soul, this entity which is you, which is how you were made.

In the image of God were you made, that of Love, Hate, Joy, Grief, Fear, Jealousy and Grace and you are swimming in the void, in darkness hoping and thus you are kindred. For you are kindred and like God knowing God's want.

For a God in heaven alone is the God of nothing.

For this realm is truly designed. It is designed to find the lonely, the broken and the wanton heart that will cherish life even at the cost of its own, lest forever you are alone, lest forever you be alone.

And, love was nailed to a tree, not the tree of good and evil but of life.

Longing

Tell the birds to stop their singing.

Tell the butterflies to go away.

Tell the bells to stop their ringing

Tell the colors to turn to gray.

Have the clocks to stop their ticking.

Have the children stop their play.

Have the harpist stop her picking.

Have the moon to go away.

Stop the river from its flowing.

Stop the stars and crystal sky.

Stop the breezes from their blowing.

Stop all wonders by and by.

Count the minutes I am mourning.

Count the tear drops from my eyes.

Count the depth of this fore longing.

Count the anguish where it lies.

Please the minstrel to stop playing.

Please the singers to go away.

Please the dancers stop their dancing

Please the pain to stop I pray.

All if this because I miss you.

Have you ever?

Have you ever known sincerity?

Have you ever known this calm?

Have you ever held a thing of rarity?

Have you ever sung this psalm?

Have you ever danced this dance of joy?”

Have you ever played this tune so rare?”

Have you ever returned to a children’s toy”

Have you ever played without a care?”

Have you ever seen the mocking bird?”

Have you ever known its laughing tease?”

Have you ever heard that loving word?”

Have you ever been so pleased?”

I have for in your eyes is truth’

and you say you love me.

This Single Woman

I see truth in her eyes through which I can see her soul

Long serving

Hides her pain

Clings to hope

Beams with grace

Gives her most

Cries alone

Wants to share

Longs to understand

Feels forlorn

Prays to God

Sustains with faith

Dulls her pain with drink

She waits and hopes

She dreams of that one shoulder to cry on;

That one who understands.

Loves Rare Scene

Morning broke and for a moment the sun shone through a sever in the clouds;

Nestled in a cabin in the forest, in the wood, we are far from cares and concerns.

The sever closes and the red gleam of the sun dims as more soft clouds envelope us.

You come to me with warm drink and pastry as an ever so gentle rain begins.

It is warm yet cool because of the rain, this lovely soft rain that soothes the mind.

And, then the music begins, that lovely cherished sound that is only your voice.

It is the voice of my love, my darling one that so graces me with her presence and love.

At times I fear the loss of my own soul if she should be gone.

And then you take me with your cunning and comfort, body to body beyond measure.

Nature in the midst of nature and you love me beyond measure, body to body and body to soul. The animals watched with no concern as if to learn from this rare scene.

And the lovely rain came down and ecstasy was known.

I do so love you.

Think Lovely

Think Lovely;

pink roses, humming birds, autumn colors and rainbows.

Think Joy;

laughing children, kind smiles, sweet hello’s and lovers.

Think comfort;

downy beds, cool in summer, warm in winter and hugs.

Think beautiful;

mountain streams, golden sunsets, the fairest of maidens and you.

I WOULD RATHER

I would rather have fifteen years of calm than fifteen minutes of fame.

I would rather be an aged oak standing firm upon the ground than the rush of many saplings that are scattered all around.

I stand against the axmen with ambition to cut me down.

He hacks against my sinew well knowing I am bound.

I would rather be a mocking bird dancing on the wing, for my stage is not ambition and I truly like to sing.

So there you have the mighty oak with a bird to dance its crown.

Laughing at ambition for none could cut him down.

Savor the day and slow down.

Life is long if you choose.