Unbegotten

Sunbeams embrace your fickle soul,

a breath of fresh air,

a burst of fresh light.

An honest breeze tickles your nerves,

releasing their tension,

unleashing their weight.

A fervent spirit overtakes your being,

calming your cares,

reassuring your bones.

The darkness rattles inside you,

caged as an animal,

confined by your ribs.

He beats like a drumming madman,

eager to break you,

to squelch the light.

She fiendishly grates at your insides,

screaming like torture,

yet silent as death.

You feel the clashing of forces,

light from without,

dark from within.

You step outside of your borrowed skin,

watching the war,

awaiting the victor.

Darkness hurls its entirety at light,

expecting to triumph,

to overwhelm their foe.

Yet the light just inhales to breathe them in,

swallowing the darkness,

absorbing them whole.

A brilliant flash envelops your presence,

infusing you with energy,

granting you with vigor.

An explosion wells within you,

a fullness unfathomed,

a beauty unbegotten.

The darkness will no longer be found,

for they could not

overcome

the light.

 

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The Grace of All Graces

Broken is the man, stained by sin,

            likewise the woman, born of his rib.

Lost are their children, strayed since birth,

            for they don’t understand the soul or its worth.

Ravaged by envy, driven by greed,

            they’re pushed and pulled by the evil one’s seed.

He’s planted it there within their hearts,

            leading them swiftly into the dark.

But light still exists in the form of Christ!

            For love overflows from the Giver of Life!

He takes the guilt and the shame we all bear,

            He wipes the slate clean, He signs His name there.

We’ve all been offered His infinite grace,

            both deeper than oceans, more expansive than space.

There is no end to the grace He bestows,

            the depth of His love, not one can know.

For He is beyond and so high above

            that He cannot sin; He simply loves.

His love is greater than all we have known,

            much higher than the eagle has ever flown.

No comparison of love will ever be found,

            for God is unfathomable, His grace too profound.

Yet our souls have weight, we’re given a choice,

            to ignore His gift or to follow His voice.

We are to choose between life and death,

            and God will decide in whom to place breath.

Though some will fall and rise no more,

            others will marvel at His graces galore.

For He yearns to take us to heaven with Him,

            to shower us in grace and to usher us in.

There with the angels His praises we’ll sing

            to the Grace of all Graces, our King of Kings.

The Artist of Life

Imagine an artist whose art comes to life…

His paintings leap from their canvasses,

            his sculptures break free and move,

His storied characters rise from their pages,

            his poetry blossoms and breathes.

Whatever he creates takes shape,

            their lungs filling up with air.

Whatever he envisions comes to be,

            for life flows from his giving hands.

Now, imagine his creations in the world

            where they live and they interact.

Imagine they’re given free will,

            granted freedom upon the earth.

Their environment is sublime,

            their surroundings are so pristine.

They commune together here, at peace

            with each other and their creator.

Next, imagine that they rebel,

            they reject their giver of life.

Chaos, anguish, and ire ensue,

            pain and hate take root.

What once was a place of harmony

            has been plagued and riddled by evil.

The creations are razing their canvas to the ground,

            their creator just watches them go…

There are wells of tears in his eyes

            and his heart is beyond broken.

His paintings have discolored,

            his sculptures have all contorted.

His characters have been manipulated,

            his poetry has turned against him.

All that he’s created has changed,

            warped by the evil in their hearts.

All that he had dreamed and envisioned

            has been lost, ruined, undone.

He gave of himself in their creation,

            but his love was not returned to him.

Now, imagine that we are his paintings,

            know that we are his sculptures.

Understand that we are his characters,

            believe that we are his poetry.

His life still flows through our veins,

            his breath still breathes in our lungs.

His love still beats in our hearts,

            and his touch is still within reach.

His longing stands before us,

            his arms are open wide.

His embrace will reshape and remold us

            into what he dreamed we would be.

Now, imagine he’s painting our path,

            know that he’s sculpting our souls.

Understand he’s the author of our lives,

            and believe our poetry is still being penned…

Gratitude

Thank you for the sun
And also for the breeze
Thank you for the sky
And for the clouds and the trees

Thank you for our breath
And thank you for the light
Thank you for the day
And also for the night

Thank you for movement
And thank you for stopping
Thank you for listening
And likewise for talking

Thank you for adventures
Thank you for the journey
Thank you for growing
And thank you for learning

Thank you for life
And even for death
Thank you for knowing
When we need to rest

Thank you for the blessings
We get to enjoy
Thank you for smiling
And for laughter and joy

Thank you for trouble
And for the hard times
Thank you for the lessons
That shape our lives

Thank you for freedom
For the choices therein
And thank you for saving us
When we choose to sin

Thank you for mercy
Thank you for grace
Thank you for Jesus
Who died in our place

Thank you for your pardon
For the power of your blood
Thank you for faith
And thank you for love

Thank you for being there
And thank you for caring
Thank you for your kindness
And for always sharing

Thank you for the past
For today and for tomorrow
Thank you for the days
That you’ve let us borrow

Thank you for choosing us
To live and to love
Thank you for the day
We’ll join you above

For now give us courage
Grant us peace and wisdom
So more souls might thank you
For all that you’ve done

We thank you, our Father
And Jesus, the Son
We thank you, Holy Spirit
All three, who are one

We thank you in earnest
We thank you from the heart
We thank you for your love
And for all that you are

Box of Dreams

I used to roam the neighborhood,
When I was just a kid dreaming like everybody should.
I kept my head up in the clouds,
Always speaking soft but thinking things out loud.

You know, the years kept rolling by,
Dream after dream would get left by the wayside.
I wish it hadn’t happened that way,
I don’t know where they went but guess what I found today.

A “Box of Dreams”
Overflowing at the seams,
My “Box of Dreams”
Still shining bright like sunbeams!
That “Box of Dreams”
Is so much more than it would seem
So won’t you please
Start your very own “Box of Dreams”!

I used to run all over the town,
My heart would speed up but my thoughts would slow right down.
I kept my eyes out in front of me,
Ready to discover whatever I was meant to be.

But life got busy, you know,
I had to work to pay to live to see tomorrow.
So I started thinking a lot,
But living in the past I know I’ll miss what the future’s got.

A “Box of Dreams”
Overflowing at the seams
My “Box of Dreams”
Still shining bright like sunbeams!
That “Box of Dreams”
Is so much more than it would seem
So won’t you please
Start your very own “Box of Dreams”!

Now I keep my head up high,
I’m dreaming every day but my eyes are open wide.
My feet are firm on the ground,
Chasing all those dreams that I used to give the run around.

I like to write my thoughts out,
So whenever people read them they’ll know what I’m all about.
So, friend, if you’re ever free,
Start a list, fill a box with everything you’ve ever dreamed.

A “Box of Dreams”
Overflowing at the seams
My “Box of Dreams”
Still shining bright like sunbeams!
That “Box of Dreams”
Is so much more than it would seem
So won’t you please
Start your very own “Box of Dreams”!

The Light We Bear

Family has become quite the convoluted word, in today’s vocabulary. In the past, family was both defined and united by blood. At present, however, family has grown to become something different. It doesn’t necessarily matter whom you were born to, or where you come from. What does matter is who surrounds you and who you surround yourself with. You can’t necessarily choose your family, but you can choose to love them. And love is the bond that should overcome whatever outside forces interfere with family. Be it distance or politic, circumstance or belief; one ought to love his family. Each individual that makes up your family was created, same as you, by God, with a purpose. And that purpose is to love. The world has become a dark, dark place. Light has become all too scarce. But within each one of us is the ability to shine the small light that God has breathed into us. And light, much like the darkness, is contagious. The difference, however, is that light is stronger than darkness. One lone light can shine and a million particles of darkness will not be able to overcome it. One lone light can shine and it can spread to spark other small lights, and when many small lights are lit together, they create a wild, overwhelming glow that cannot be snuffed. In this world we have a purpose, and that purpose is to shine light into the darkness. As an individual you can only shine so far, but as a family, our light becomes much stronger and much more contagious. So let us be people who choose light over darkness, and let us be a family whose lights shine together and not apart. For life is not meant to be lived in the darkness, and one cannot love on his own. So let our family be a source of light, and together we’ll be a force of love.

Así Soñamos

Soy como las nubes que flotan arriba,
sin peso, e intocable.
Soy como las brisas que provienen del mar,
presente, pero invisible.
Vacías son las palabras que me dicen,
falsas las sonrisas.
Huecas son las almas que me enfrentan,
blancas las páginas.
Los ojos que me miran no me ven,
sino pasan a través de mi.
Las palabras se dirigen en mi dirección,
pero no me llegan a mi.

Siento que son sinceras,
que sus palabras son genuinas.
Quiero creer en sus promesas,
que su apoyo llegará en algún momento.
Les miro a los ojos y pienso,
me ven a mi también.
Les cuento mi historia y confío,
me escuchan y recordarán.
Pero miles de miradas he compartido,
y muy pocas perduran.
Miles de veces he compartido mi corazón,
y muy pocos se acuerdan.

Sé que el mundo les llama,
y que sus días deben estar llenos.
Sé que la vida es complicada,
y que hay un montón de cosas que hacer.
Sé que lo que pido puede ser difícil,
pero no pensaba que era tanto.
Sé que lo que quiero puede ser mucho,
pero no sabía que sería para tanto.
Pero después de todos mis intentos,
parece que es así.
Después de todos mis esfuerzos,
realmente es así.

Nunca me creí egoista,
de hecho me creo humilde.
Nunca me tomé por exigente,
de hecho pido súper poco.
Lo que pido en el fondo es simple,
es algo realmente básico.
Lo que busco no debe ser tan raro,
debe ser dado por hecho.
Lo que pido debe ser algo común,
pero no.
No lo es.

Cuando me miran con sus ojos,
sólo pido que me vean…
Cuando me oyen con sus oídos,
sólo pido que me escuchen…
Cuando prometen ayudarme,
sólo pido que cumplan…
Cuando me dicen palabras,
sólo pido que sean sinceras…
Y cuando les cuento mi historia,
sólo pido que la recuerden…
Así soñamos las brisas del mar,
y las nubes del cielo como yo.