A little alliterative caterpillar

One idyllic day, in a charmingly diminutive wood laced with shady greens and flowers bloomed, stood a minuscule egg. Woven to rusty snaky branches, swaying in whispering winds and breathing breeze, perfectly contented in sleepy dream and reverie; bliss in tranquil emerald timber. But at last, the time came, for the small sleeper to suddenly awake from slumber long, to break forth from the egg’s scaly dull sheath, into new colors, light and air, new world of heights and rainbow vision; new weaving paths and sharp life! The curious caterpillar carefully crept along the novel crawl-way of tree, taking in sights and sensations never known, auburn vibrations in an ambient forest, striking senses slyly. The carefree caterpillar crunched on flavorful foliage of jade and lime, growing bolder and broader as the wooded world slowly shrunk.

As night drew nigh, a tired, puffy, weary caterpillar inched to inevitable immobility, spinning a silky silhouette; a temporary tomb trapped our friend.

Sleeping, dreaming once more, caterpillar’s chrysalis crowned the wooden watchtower, waiting in womb for wakening. A transformation was stirring in silent twilight as the stars peeked through the leaves to fix gaze upon a little crypt of mysteries. For age and eon the night slept on, but as dawn drew near; our friend stirred surreptitiously in the sinewy stocking.

The Caterpillar craved freedom, squirming and squalid in the cocoon of captivity; breaking out would prove a bittersweet battle. Dawn rose over the dim wood, fog and dew covered the forest in blue diamonds’ refracting rays. Blades stretched to sunlight, shaking dry their slender stalks.

 

The cocoon quaked, quivers of rebirth and resurrection. The entity enmeshed flipped and fidgeted, breaking loose from languish, desperate to dare to dream, to breathe and be, to skip and see. The suffocating cylinder squeezed some more, seeking to choke the child within. Life and death, light and dark, being and oblivion, the fragile fellow fought, slowly seeking salvation through shackles and strings of sinew.

Suddenly, true vision at long last seized the sad soul! Our fine friend was finally free, marveling at the sharp swaths of silver dew, majestic maroons, opulent oranges, witty whites and other splendid shades in the flowers flitting around the willowy wood.

A new creation, strong from struggle, beheld the butterflies, fluttering free in supple circling soliloquies. A heart hearkened to the multitude of magnificent monarchs, feeling flight ‘neath wobbly, wakened wings.

Knowing a virtuous vigor, our beautiful butterfly flew at last, fashioning a flight in joyous jubilation! The colors cascaded ‘cross novel vistas, unknown and open, a world of wonders untouched, waiting for venturous souls’ pursuits and curious quests to quiet horizons’ sunsets.

Our friend gazed back once last, at the dull shell that caged a caterpillar. Seeing the suffocating struggle no more, feeling the choking carcass not least, knowing that only purging pain and pressure had strengthened the wings enough to finally fly to freedom.

Journal Entry

Discerning God’s call and will. Who, what, when, where, how? Questions fade, he remains. Being transformed by the renewal of the mind, in prayer, supplication, joy, fellowship. Participating in his nature. Then you will be able to discern his pleasing, perfect will.

We are one like Israel, chosen, fallen, redeemed.

Called to take no side, save the side of grace, but to prophesy to those who ascribe to the systems of the world. There is condemnation for those under the law, there is no condemnation for those in Christ. A call to follow the Way, a call to know the Truth, a call to live in the Life.

For what is too hard for the living God? Therefore, I will walk in his strength, in my weakness. I proclaim a foolish message, that those who might believe would receive salvation, not from man’s wisdom, but from God’s power.

  Is it possible to truly encounter the Truth, without being changed? Without being rocked to the core so much that you can’t go on without changing your ways?

This adventure that he puts before us. “come after me.” He says. “trust me.” Don’t rely on yourself for provision or fulfillment. Be totally dependent on God, like child depending on a parent.

He swoons madly, calling to us as a lover, coveting our gaze, every motion, every thought. His desire for us is burning in zeal and fervor, he whispers mysteries to us, to see if we will catch the love, and follow. To see if we are willing to forget the dust around us, and latch on to life.

He has come to give purity, to heal grievous wounds, to show the escape from despair and meaninglessness. He has come to show true life, to tear us out of mediocrity and illusion. He has come to open our eyes, to see the light that is already shining.


Baptism

Approach the water with anticipation, this fallen one. Today is the day I die again. The calm waters chill, inviting surrender. Brightest light blazes to ripples, through heavens, earth and eyes. Close these to black, last words a prayer, gentle trees sway the breeze. Last sight azure skies, split and redeemed by sunlight. Gone under, never returning to next worlds or this. Breathe the final air away, plunge the dead into depths. Rest, in eternal silence and dust under the Jordan waters.

 

Now arise! Break forth through the surface, into a new light and salvation! Breathe your first breath child, breathe. Open your eyes to see your first sight, awaken your heart with new spirit and anointing. Tears mix with water and become one, elixir of brokenness and life. Rise, step out of your grave. You have been raised with Christ.

Sometimes its all just noise

 Today, in Israel, we had quite a long day. We drove over to western Israel, the coastal plain. Tel Megiddo, a city that was destroyed and rebuilt many times in the ancient world, now lying desolate in ruin. We then drove towards the great sea (Mediterranean), saw various sites and ruins of once splendid palaces, ancient cities and culture centers, now nothing more remains of their ancient glory than a few rocks stacked on top of each other.

The sea was beautiful. The scent of the ocean wind, the sun reflecting on the waves, the razor blues of the water. I stood on the shore in the tide, and my footprints disappeared in the sand.

The trip back was long. I could feel the tidal force welling up in me, desperate. I felt like I was dying of thirst.

When I got back, the first thing I did was throw off my things I had carried around all day in my room. I went upstairs, to a quiet, dim little room. No one around, no music, no sights, no sounds. I sunk down against the wall, and started weeping. This dusty, dry soul drank deeply of the silence that it had starved of for so many hours. Finally, finally, I could once again hear the voice that gives me life, stillness, silence, the voice of whispers and promises.

Sometimes, it is all just... noise.

An aged reflection (7/7/09)

It was a new beginning, new life. All was committed to heaven, strength of promise, trust in providence, dedication and penitence ruled the cyclical chaos.

 

He saw a surface, much reflected. Through the ripples, translucency betrayed depths, dangers and treasures undiscovered. He knew desire to search and know, though odds and circumstance forbade miracle. Nevertheless, clarity could come with dare. But would the sight shimmer with soliloquy, or dance with dream? Time would tell, or fate forsake. Coincidence would cure, destiny would demand.

 

He committed mind relentlessly to call, fled distraction and secured hope, though he knew all could be lost in patience and forgotten from activity. Those reckless steps were ordered and insanity counseled, and crippled, he crumbled to the armada of awareness.

 

 

In light of all that was sworn, I saw a divide. My promises turned and split integrity, bereft of mercy. Were it simply hope lost, I would stagger and find strength to win it again. But this pierced a heart so longing for truth, that it all but drained the fickle joy away and left no recourse but sweet bitterness. I was torn between rising on heights of chance and wings of smile, or sinking into obscurity by lost presence.

 

It was as if the profound had vanished amid chaos, the meaningful grew thin, to break and disappear altogether. All I knew was tossed and in a void of doubt. Though my foundation stayed strong, my platform was shaken and body convulsed in the pain of reality.

 

Separation grew, feeding itself as I looked on in helpless dread and anger, knowing the truth had been warped by perspective. Vision was failing, wisdom skewed. Darkness crept close once more as I fled to intangible shelters of sword and spirit. But once safe, I looked back and beheld the distance lost.

 

Oh, a moment of clarity, when destiny focused and plan fulfilled. It was a completeness born of trial, wholeness transformed from loss, fullness of singularity. I strained to glimpse the man standing in that light, he stood ascended through it all, rose to call, fixed on destination. He turned not, leaving tear or grin to mystery.

 

And I wonder in pain, if I turned my back on him.

 

I tried to see.

 

That gaze once fixed would never sway, constant and true. Once vision set, it could only be forced away by the focus itself.

 

A day for a star’s fall awaited, a wish each night witnessing afar the sparkle and glow of dream and hope. In sad contrast, the helpless realization that each breath or blink could mean loss of chance to capture that light, and guide it home.

 

Sleep would come, closing heart from incandescence, dreams canceled by starting down another empty road. Grace was the only light to walk by, pale by all he left behind. A time never known to awake again, blind trust would have to raise him from gray fields of the lost.