Why is it that God always reveals new truth from the unexpected place?

Delayed recordings - another way to increase my faith perhaps.

When Christ or his servants come into your life, will you recognize them?

I call from within 

My empty chamber

To no one there.

I call for a fife

But it doesn't come.

And all of the lyres are hired

To woo the world 

With song,

Mirrored pools 

Reflecting all the things

They most desired but lost

Or hope to loose.

And the world turns round

And the young girls 

Are wooed

By smooth guitars

Into the arms of men

Who disappoint them

But not too much

And they find a little joy

Here and there

They two,

And it's enough to satisfy

For season

And an age, 

A generation,

But not enough 

To stop the turning

Round and round,

Death and life

An life and death

Never ending misery

Is the tune,

And hope

And beauty

And solemn resignation

And often gratitude for it all

But the song won't stop 

Long enough to hear

That there is something 

Deeper than it all,

Something deep beneath the boards

That frame the stage

We all stand on.

Good bye world.

I bid you adieu.

I'm down beneath

Digging down 

To the thing 

We lost

Before we ever knew

What it was to cry

There in our mother's arms,

The thing we knew

Before we knew,

And now and then

I stick my head out 

Through the door

And call for a fife 

To play the tune

Of something new

But they're all hired out.

Eventually, there will be peace on earth.

To vanish,

To disappear

Into thin air,

That is heaven.

To exist 

But to not be seen,

That is power.

To speak the truth

From behind the veil

Of mystery

And then to leave before

They ask your name, 

In that there is 

The hope of immortality.

But you desire to be seen

And to be known 

For your good works?

And so, you are doomed to fail,

To be forgotten,

And in the mean time

To suffer for your weakness

At their lips

When your strength 

Has worn out 

And they can no longer use you

For their ill gotten gain.

Fools!

To have a name 

Is to be forgotten.

To have a reputation

Is to one day 

Have it tarnished.

Why won't you see

That it is in letting go

Of all that's you

That you will rise

To disappear

With that host 

Who shine so bright

That one glimpse of them

Dissolves the eyes 

Within their sockets. 

For we are shadows,

Wispy glimpses 

Of forgotten hopes

Of the dark fairy folk

Who were once cast out 

For their self made idols.

And all of the dreams 

Of what we hope we are 

Is no more than

Borrowed, unsavory,

Twice chewed morsels

That fall from the tables of the fallen,

No...

Better to disappear,

And to be a no-one

And speak the truth unnamed

Than to find out too late

That they only wanted you

For the thing that you could give them.

Great poetry does not attract people who love poetry.

It attracts people who long to ride atop

The crest of the Great Wave of Truth,

To lace their fingers in its mane

And let it carry them naked, bareback and frightened

To where they know not.

And rarely is it sought by such

But must sneak its way into their lives from unexpected sources:

A movie, an advertisement, a song.

And then it haunts them ever after with the thought

That they have seen, have heard, the Truth once spoken

And can never again pretend that they have not.

We have become dreaming creatures.  

And we will not stop.

And if we ever do stop, 

We will die.

There is no going back,

No going back.

And that's ok.

This world was made

Unto this end

That when we could 

Not but dream,

That we would pass

Into that world

Of dreams

And never come back

Come back.

Are you afraid?

Don't be.

Believe.

The story of a young missionary who had found the unseen kingdom of endless wealth.

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It can be a mistake to try to understand evil.