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Passover: Jesus lived in the year of no cars, and no nine to fives. And yet, Jesus knew the Lions that would chase his lambs. Mary gave birth to Jesus pregnant before her time. She lived when baby killings were carried out by a crazy king, who thought Jesus to be next in line. Me I live with roots that hardly seem real, running here and there ruled all too often by how I feel. Rather than going to the one in faith, to whom all will one day kneel.

 

Private Chambers: Private chambers hold a dimension all its own, somewhat mysterious and new. Forming a foundation of beauty like none I have known. I see it as a sign, ready to break forth in a kaleidoscope of color at any time. They challenge me to see past what it seems, to savor what's hidden as something more than a dream.

 

Roadways of the Heart: Under the shadow of your wings, this love abides. Resting in you, I walk in your sight, though my days on earth are as a shadow in the night. Your strength is a refuge of escape in the darkest night. Held captive by your voice, calmed by your touch, my heart bears a melody that gives me s rush. Awakened by the silence, my heart keeps watch as I ponder your purpose in a star-filled night, and my spirit then rises to move toward the light. I am awed and released to an inner room (a place hidden in the heart where all is consumed.) Your love grows intense yet so free, moving with a passion that amazes me. Hearts burn as one, and this place ignites, hands touch, and eyes meet. Suddenly there is an awareness that there can be no defeat.

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Rosewood: In the quiet of the night, roots penetrate where nothing else grows. Hidden vines spread across the land, where its purest waters flow. Blossoms appear in the blink of an eye, revealing a new rose in the morning light.  Soft to the touch, its scent is sweet. Moving on the

wings of the wind, One finds the strength to compete. The sky grows dark, and it is quiet within. Time stands still for the one who will begin. A journey of a lifetime seeking what is real. And therein, find one's hidden treasure in "what is no longer sealed.

 

Seascapes: The waves crash, spilling onto the deck, causing a strain I want to ignore. The winds whistle and create a stormy mist, my heart races as I try to make the shore. The sunrises in a colorful array, over a calm sea, there is a sense of peace that comes with a new dawn. But at the moment, it is shaped by the power of unity and no more asking why? As one resolves to move in an avenue of reflection and a time undefined.

 

Seeds of Spring: Contentment reaches within. Life sparks a new path to begin. Love seeds its way into another's heart. Hope grows to do its part. Energy wanes with too much thought. Union begins when the truth is sought. Sunrises offer beauty in a magical weave. Sunsets close the door on what sets out to deceive. Spring brings new light on what is real. Days pass and there is time to take heed of things what's been unsealed.

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Signs of the Times: Vessels of light, not beacons of terror, showing the way out for those in despair. Rays of hope release comfort in the midst, and a rest that is contagious when nothing

else fits. Mirrors of wisdom meant to soothe and heal, the one caught in a never-ending wheel. Soon to be revealed with the passing of time, these vessels are crucial to unveiling loves eternal sign. Living in the moment with an expectation that there is a need to be the dividing line.

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Songbirds Tapestry: The voice of a songbird he's given me, deep as a river that must flow free.

His garment of praise I hear in the quiet, as the song of his heart. Expressed in and through the one that can impact the brilliance of a diamond, the softness of spring, while maintaining the movement and strengthening one's wings. The role of a handmaiden he has placed me in, to

walk the highways and byways seeking the witness of him. In the gentle lamb and the lion's

heart to I am aware, the voice of this songbird is not something new.

  

Simple Roots: In a shallow pond, one can hardly move. It gives no room to make a choice. In a broken boat, there is no time to make the shoreline and therein get above the noise. In a blazing fire, there is no relief to find your way, nor build a bridge without delay. In a habitat of too much pain, there is no rest to be gained. Nor does it feel like life will ever be the same. in nature, when lightning and thunder add to the pile, being quiet seems impossible for even a while. Even so, there is a cry for change and a time to rearrange. As simple roots begin to grow, and the purity of love begins to flow.

 

The Desert Shall Bloom: A desert maiden tired and worn came in out of the heat quite unadorned, in search of her beloved, her turtle dove.  Determined yet weary she looked to rise above all the images that held her back, all those things that told her she was full of lack. A desert maiden, quite comely in form, came in from an east gate. Seeking to be transformed by the fire of His spirit and the purity of His love; purposed to instruct her just as Boaz did Ruth; as a husband of valor sent from above.

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 copyright 1991 and beyond:

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