DATE: 01/02/2008 09:33:17 / MOOD: Encouraging
On The Ground by Tsandahl Bostrianni
As i sought the way in which i should go,
it was a faded road map to read ,you know.
I found comfort here and sweetness there,
I found my prayers racing thru the air.
As long as i kept a heavenly gaze
i had faith and love and peaceful days.
But when i looked around and checked where i stood
Only then i would find the flawed and no good.
With my knees dug in and my face in the dirt
i could hear the cries of the injured and hurt.
People looking for the way they should go
spinning and dazed and nothing to show,
No faded map to read ,off in every direction,
No map to tell them when they needed correction.
I stood there among the wailers and screamers,
No divine direction , and of course no Redeemer .
I let them pass as they may , as they avoided my glance
some of them rushing, some in a trance.
Every once in a while, some one would see me and my map,
They would clear their throats and give my shoulder a tap.
I could point out where we were , and where we needed to be
I could point to the blood ,and the nails in the tree.
Some would ask, where do you start and where do you finish
You start here on your knees , and by HIS grace your sins will diminish.
They say how do you know with so many maps out there,
that this one that you should share?
All i can say with faith in my heart ,
HIStory will tell you that you must begin your trip
no matter how late, or how often you slip.
But with truth in my heart , and tears in my eyes,
With fear and trembling this is what i summize,
if i was standing on the ground the day that HE rose,
what was the truth that day? Not everyone knows.
Its a bit of a mystery ,a course for your soul.
the destination is the place where you become whole.
October 11th 2003 8:20 am Clearwater, florida
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DATE: 12/29/2007 13:45:38 / MOOD: Encouraging
Big Picture,Third Cup, Dry Toast.
"..Could we with ink the ocean fill,And were the skies of parchment made,Were every stalk on earth a quill,And every man a scribe by trade,To write the love of God above,Would drain the ocean dry.Nor could the scroll contain the whole,Though stretched from sky to sky."-F.Lehman
That is an awesome assemblage of words.
When I lived in LA ,i used to go to Venice beach and pray for the passers by, gussied up or down In all of their neo-pagan regalia.Then I 'd hop in my 64 Dodge convertible and drive up the PCH until there was a clear spot in the tightrope asphalt highway.Id point the car west ,with the ocean in front of me and the mountains behind me. Fewer passers by, on foot anyway.And i would pray again for the people on Venice beach and try to see them for the their ''spirit worth'' and not the display of societal trappings in which they had adored themselves. Each of them "unconditionally loved", knowingly or unknowingly..I know the Father breathed life into all of their nostrils, even though they ''looked like the world'' with all of their might ,they were still from ''HIS HAND".Id look at the immense Pacific ocean and feel the rocky coast line over my shoulder ,and know it all came from the same Hand.Windy days made it all the richer.
Shalom -LOU
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DATE: 12/29/2007 13:39:03 / MOOD: Encouraging
To those i love-
i have been zooming in all directions, too busy on all fronts. Trying to serve many is exhausting work and we grow weary, but we do not quit.
The glorious Spirit of the Creator of the Universe, trapped in this tainted flesh.
The bittersweet irony of it all.
The perfect loving spirit which will someday be released from this tomb of dust and water,twists in confusion.
When the Father originally put spirit into our body it was young, tender and perfect.
Years pass, the tricks of the flesh, the perverse carnival of our minds, it all weathers our souls.
You seek to return to the early and pure.
Once you have tasted the Living Water, the worlds gourmet dung, leaves no desire.
A remnant of the tender, young spirit lingers thru your heart and your mind.
It longs for the simple days of pure spirit , pure love, and unchanging peace in HIS presence.
YOUR world is a giant cycle, it is a tale of repentance, our purity soiled, until it is no longer recognized.
The Spirit grieves over its sqaulored condition, and seeks cleansing.
Hoping the cycle will turn slowly, after our redemption.
Only the power and the unmerited lovingkindness of the Creator can prove us worthy.
As you add years to your life and the calendar nearly rattles off the wall from the velocity of days past,remember these things.
Your life is a daily thing, pray every day.
You are forgiven as soon as you ask.
Our Father is even more than we can imagine.
It will be a pleasure to serve HIM for all of eternity.
We have chosen wisely.
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