High Tide: The dry dock Is ready, and the marina awaits, the coming of one who needs refuge before it’s too late. The workers are prepped, and the tools are at hand. All that is needed is for that one to understand. The time has come to set sails toward home. Let go of the battle and the feeling alone. But caught in the undertow of trying to make it work, these weary travelers stay away though drowning in an angry surf. Until the barnacles and rubble take their toll. The dry dock remains empty because they just won’t let go.

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His Arrow:  Out of His holy mountain comes a voice like thunder shaking all within, igniting this holy fire to burn brightly in those prepared to wait on Him. With fierce determination, the arrow meets its mark, illuminating the path of one, still in the dark. Wounding, it's target the blood begins to flow. And yet, it is not unto destruction but rather a chance to grow. Out of this hidden garden comes the scent of a treasured rose, with beauty beyond measure (singled out as the one, he chose.) While out of the mire comes a marksman, unlike all I have known, prepared to wear a coat of armor composed of precious seed sown.

His Elusive Butterfly: Who is the woman 'within' the veil? Her eyes are mysterious, yet they tell a tale. Her gentle manner and delicate frame move with a grace that's not the same as any I have observed before. She is soft and beautiful. I want to touch her, yet there is no door. Who is this woman just beyond my reach? Her spirit is vibrant, and without compare, her insight tempered.  She is a breath of fresh air, with a sense the adventure is just about to begin. She is elusive as a butterfly yet a woman of substance, called to abide in a hidden place within.

His Embrace: Strong and vibrant, you are my beloved, and my desire burns for you as a fire of pure love. Heard from the mountains and under the sea, I am now and will always be the very breath of thee. Gentle as spring rain, your spirit moves in mine ready to discern, and impart the mysteries of time. So come my beloved, come under my spell, and I will teach you to draw living waters from my well. Yes come my lamb, come up to my gate, I am calling you forth, and you need not wait. For my heart is open my turtle dove, and my desire burns like a fire of pure love.

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Line of Fire: Get out of the line of fire, get above the mundane, to let your spirit move toward me.  Do not let them leave you in so much pain. Listen and then run the race, for there will always be someone or something to steer you from grace. Remembering the past and where it went, and regretting even the good as wasted time spent. So get 'above' feeling dazed, and let your heart fly toward me in quiet time and praise.

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Love Found a Way: If I build a bridge between you and what I have planned? Would you see safety and take my hand? And walk knowing you are prepared, or would you run from there? What would you do? If I construct a blueprint of signs along the way? Would you read them and learn, knowing I am with you? Or would you let it all slip away? What would you say? If I point the way to your heart's desire, would you accept it or throw it back? I wonder, and then I see just a whisper of faith, to fuel the fire. And, I know you are ready to conceive, believe, and receive, that you are mine and it is you, I desire.

 

Lyrics of the Heart: Music lines the corridors of my heart. Creativity and art fill the depths of my soul. Life's natural wonders begin to impart the joy of pure love playing an intricate role. While nestled beside a flickering fire, I see many things that keep me inspired. And yet, like a sailboat that can only move with steady wind, I find I am stuck in dry dock, not knowing where to begin. Just the same, there is a simplicity in enjoying the surrounding silence, as music heals my spirit with the balance it imparts.

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More: More than before and less than yesterday, my heart knows a new path and will not stray. More than the waves that crash on a private beach, less than the rage a storm can reach. More than the beauty of a summer sunset, less than the brilliance of the sun rising. More than lit it's like a falling star, less than a monsoon rain renewing the place of refuge that we are. More than a beginning that is looking for the perfect end. More than and less than...its time to stop saying when.
 

Noah's Ark: Three stories and a bit of clay. A vessel built for another day. Purposed to house Noah and his wife. A menagerie of animals, in sets of two. A holy ark built as a symbolic covenant between God and man. An anchor, a strong tower, to those who seek him.

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copyright 1991 and beyond

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