the consequence of being what I am

Can you believe this? Did anyone foresee this?

That my shame and regret would bring out all the weakness I've hidden from myself? That my actions would change the course of my destiny, making what was simple, very hard. That I would be the last one to understand what I did. That I would have only smoke in me when I tried to defend myself, that I was hollow in and out.

And that it would take my whole life to make this right.

These lies in my head are from this hate for myself.
My hate is not without reason, I know that I am the source of pain for many.
That my jumping gun and impulsive tongue, my idolatrous eyes and selective ears, my heavy feet and my wicked hands... they'll fight true love to the end.
They'll burn the bridges for no reason, just to cause panic and riot. Just to spite the true me.
Would things be different if I had a father? I dont know.
I do know I am becoming just like him.


I keep on falling short.
The only thing that is keeping me alive right now.
He keeps on calling me.
Still.
What is this?

Oh Jesus.

Help me cause I am lost and lonely. The path seems hard and steep and everything is telling me I cant do this.


Lord help me.

Crutch

Exaggerations and impulse fill the air, we feel like its the end of the world. We feel like we have one last moment to actually live.

Your heart begs you to stop, Im turning at the sight of my own skin.

But through and through we've devised a way to damn ourselves.

Every lie builds upon the previous, making the day darker, the water colder, the music duller.

And in all that pain, you don't believe I love you.

You don't believe I love you.

Everyday, I hear your ghost-like voice whisper, "I'm drowning in a cesspool of hate and fear" I hear the most beautiful girl I know tell me that she was made for "darkness and tragedy" That Gods word wasn't spoken into existence for her. That my hands were not made to lift her up, nor my eyes to shine into her life.

I was not born with poor eyes, I can see in the dark. Always been able to do that.
I would watch other children quiver in the dark, A light must be turned on, lest those monsters capture them. And its not that I thought there weren't monsters.

I just knew I could kill them.

I still know they're there. I still know I can kill them.

But for the life of me, I cannot kill hers. Honestly, I'm running on a powerless desperation and I spill more blood than I can save. It consumes my mind, fills hours of my day, thinking about how to recreate her world.
She knows what I would say before I say it, she knows how to decipher text and conquer fear. But my lips offer more than words of truth. Other things besides the truth.
Yes, I am a twisted giant. My neck is in knots, and my hymns come out as blasphemy. My touch is filled with riddles and my heart is stained with self-indulgence. I've pushed my hands through windows, and broken dreams out of frustration. I stay up too late trying to get back to whatever I was, and I just spend all that time wondering what the hell I'm trying to accomplish.
I stay up, wishing upon a white box.

They seem to want a more productive machine. Taking as little input and giving maximum output.
Sometimes, it seems thats what she wants. Or at least what anyone would ask of me.
And my incompetence has created resentment.

For every arm I stretch out towards victory, there a voice behind me reminding me of that resentment. So I cower under a dull gaze. And my light goes out with a quiet whimper.
As I hide, the water stops flowing, and I look for a place to bury my head.
My breath gets shallow.

And I trade out truth for a memory of a glimmer,
I get something in my eyes, but its more of a black film than a shining clarity. How could I lead you like that? How could I show you what is truly beautiful if all I see is black?


I am just a crutch. And the longer you hold on to me, the slower it will take to heal.
I will refuse, shout, proclaim my anger to the heavens, if you do not heal.
You were made for my dreams.
I believe that.
To fight with me in battles that those other men couldn't believe, wouldn't believe we could fight.
To conquer mountains that seemed insurmountable.

But If I lack substance, If I deny what is sacred and am consumed by my skin, how am I to fight this war?
How are you to fight this war, with me clinging at your waist, waiting for you to lead me out of this mess?



I cannot wait to climb that mountain. But I can't wait to see you on top of yours.
You cannot follow me up this struggle. And I cannot keep you from yours.
I love you too much to just let die.
I just wonder how to truly let you live.


Lord, it all hurts.
 I dont know how this will work.
Please fix this.
Redeem this.
Only you can.
Help us fulfill our destinies. 

Sleepless Wondering

Its almost midnight. I cant go to sleep.

To many thoughts fill my head.
Thoughts about people I have no ability to help.
Like my brother.
Like my mother.
Like you dear.
All those facing an inferno. Facing the trials of a failing body. Paranoia. Addiction. Age.

Where is hope found for those who dont know how to hope?

Who teaches them?

Who repels the demons that visit them at night?

Look,
 If You are life, if you are as relentless as You seem to be, wouldnt You burn up those towns? Wouldnt You send down a holy fire upon my lips, or are You waiting for righteousness? Are You waiting for them to suffer more, or are You moving across the scales on our eyes? Your promises are like sapphires in the cavern of my soul. But these voices ask me to pluck them out.

King, for all my paranoia and sleepless suffering, I know you are not the enemy. You are what you are. 

Does not mean I am not challenged with you.

I watch pressure and stress mold and form my friends. I watch the manifold manifestations of deceit and trickery reveal themselves in the eyes of  my dearest ones. And for some reason, I can hold to You. I can commit myself to repentance. I must acknowledge You as life, for I know its like mercury in my veins, whenever I push You away. The emptiness leaves me staggering, and I will pull out all my hair if I cannot keep you. But Lord, these ghosts, these waiting children, are in such desperate need of miracles.

And maybe their desperation will bring them out of depression. They need mercy for themselves more than anything. But their heart is thick with these stones. Blood spurts out at every seem, and we must wait for their patience. 

I must speak the truth, Your Spirit will rest with us in our rooms, waiting to be called upon. How could you ask Him to fill you with nothing? If you need sustenance, how can you ask for anything but Him?

How could you rest in this grey life, how could you breathe in that stagnant air. 

Oh, how I would move to see you live.

The tears that would come at seeing you like this.

Where is the Bride.

I want to stick my head in eternal waters. Drench my hair in forever. Like John, I want to see the bride be what she was made to be. I want to see her hands move under the dirt and pull the steel out of the ground. Those left in the cold underground would finally breathe. And these obscuring towers finally would crumble.

But that is not what I see the bride doing.
She has no charity for the common man.
And her children do not know God. How could they if they do not know widows and orphans.

And if I scream. If I shout, will she move? Can I shake her?

And look, I know. She is riddled with disease. She is paranoid and trembling.

She has been undermined, belittled, raped and molested. So like a sickly woman, she turns to her abusers and says "help me"

And I am a member of this body, I move with its mass. How can I tear from its sickness? How can I lift this body?

 I refuse to relent. I will not be swept under this current.

 She is not a lamb, she is not a child. She is an oxen in need of water. And she is pale in the light, but her strength lies under her black fur. 

My eyes have seen the strength of a Mother Bear defending her cubs from Satan's hold. She slips, breaks her bones and her health whithers. But her fists are still engaged, and she will not hesitate from striking her next blow. She will stand solid in the whirlwind, the wicked will fall around her. Her inheritance is her treasure, the Kingdom one she'll fight to see.
The beasts mouth shall be ripped open, its jaw torn off. It will be silenced, and the victory of the Lord will obliterate its deathly seduction of the sick. The Champ and I will tie up this Juggernaut with chains! Just as my mother and your father did before us. We will bring him to his knees, and lanterns will rise in this city to celebrate the new light of our hearts!

But brother, I cannot do this alone. I know I am a saint, living to worship, and I know you will bring me back up from the dirt. And of course, I will not let you die. We cant die! We got to much work to do. This kingdom aint gonna be built outta nothing. Takes men and women of inhuman courage to climb this mountain.

Weve spent to much time running as fools. I always knew that I was meant for victory, and I always ran from it.

I always fled from the Faithful King when hope seemed to slim. But what I've grown to learn is that hopelessness is based in deceit. Inexperienced children lash out at their siblings, and cry when they are lonely. Its not the same sad song anymore. We are too smart to let the light go out from our bodies. That light MUST pour out to those who can barely see, to those who are stumbling around. And I aint preaching for evangelism. Im talking about hope. Bout when stuff is so fucked up nobody round here can keep a tear out of their eye.

Im tired of seeing everyone crying all the time. Tired of people telling me how lonely they are. I see the people, the members of the bride, and it seems they are their just by circumstance.
They were just lucky. But Lord. Those who do not have that circumstance. Those widows and orphans. I know Blackbird didnt have that circumstance. I know my blood brother did not. But as the Body of Christ, are we supposed to enrapture them with love?

If there is going to be a rapture, shouldnt we bring it? We are so busy waiting for the world to change. The world is suffering around us. Their problems seem insurmountable, you feel covered in darkness, as if you are standing in the shadow of a colossus. You turn and move out of the way, you set up an empty commitment and make false promises. But your punishment isnt a bloody death, or even a curse upon your bones. No, your punishment is that hollow men and women will surround your grave on the day you die. Void of the love you neglected to share.

As I said. I refuse to relent, I refuse to let go of these people. I will never give up on them no matter how far they turn. You may call me a fool for doing so. But if thats what makes a man a fool, I will be the greatest fool of all.

I will love these people with all the strength the Great King gives me, but I hope, that one day, I will not have to do so alone.

Will of Fire

Look at this gray land my brother. Look here Blackbird. 

Start the fire. We can burn these dead trees. We'll burn on these accursed memories.

But like the Will of Fire, our love shall consume us.

Our love will warm this cold earth. Gentle hands will pick up these ruins. When you feel the strain in your back, burst forth from the never-dying passion. Let hope swell up deep within your stomach and let it overflow, let it encompass every breath.

I know things are different than the visions of  the quiet.

The thorns and thistles twist around this empire of dark.

Insatiable hearts cling to these rocks, singing horrible songs of misguided love and illusions wrapped in shallow glamour. If they could they would eternally retreat to a warm, solitary fortress wrapped in the comfort of pitch black. They cut their hair and claw at their surroundings, and they cant see the 

beautiful stars.

Close your eyes dear.

Feel the sun.

Feel our fathers warmth.

Brother, feel his hands on your weary shoulders.

we are his children.

young, but strong.

He will not deny us our victory, but if we stay still, if we dont move, who will?

We are the chosen children. 

We will inherit our brother's victory. I will not be conquered by the enemy.

If we do not love our kingdom that is being prepared for us, who will fill it?

You dont honestly think he made you from dust, then died for that dust, just for you to pray sometimes and go to a sanctuary on a Sunday?

I saw you there, as you laid in that dirt. As the flesh wore off your bones and those creatures picked you apart. I knew when I looked into your eyes, that you were made for more beautiful things. If only I could take you by your hand, and lead you to that secret room, where he whispers his secrets. Just if you could know for one second longer how gorgeous the royal throne is.

I, myself, lied in the dirt. Like the mass of humanity, I did not know what love was.

I was sworn a traitor and an orphan. And my wage was never enough to pay the debt.

I was beat. I was cursed. I feared.

My eyes were hollow, my bones lifeless. My hair was matted and my skin was broken.

I was gone.

But their are saints who would not allow such things to happen.

A White Grizzly lent me his wise words and fathered my faith. I have grown to love a Champ of Angels (and all the True Cowboys).

I had the Fearfully-brave Poet share the beauty unseen, and the Valiant Patron of Aslan showed me the unremarkable colors of truth.

And Blackbird has exemplified the true work of The Spirit, whether she knows it or not.

My brother's love has come at me like a tidal wave. Now a radiance shines upon my cheeks; my eyes sparkle and my love is growing strong. My work is hard but my reward is sweet. The fight is bloody and I turn my head nearly every day, but I aint going back. Cause I am here to march to you, lift you on my shoulders and take you with me.

I aint got no time for dying. Neither do you. Not for the juggernaut, not for ester darker. Your fallout will silenced with his breath.

Never die, never be satisfied with this gray life.

DONT STOP TILL YOU SEE A MIRACLE!

Then take a breath,

and

continue

to love.

----------------------------------------------

How Elusive.

You rest on my shoulder watching the sun rise. You can feel the warmth of my skin as my yawning cheeks are met by golden sun rays.You are afraid to die, so you crawl inside.

Conversation stops as I start to choke. You slither down my spine round the vertebrae, pulling them apart. I can feel you in my body, I know the course of these movements. Back threw my throat. You consume my mind.

You are a snake and you steal love inside.

I am just clay, I am just flesh molding under the pressure of anyone's fingers. 

The blood grow thick under my forehead. And nothing will alleviate this sickness.

CAST DOWN YOUR IDOLS YOU SAY.

VICTORY OVER THE DEAD BY MY HANDS?

The dead slowly come to realize that their hands are not golden and strong but pale and quivering. The light jumps and I thrash into a darkness.

All I wanted was to be THE ONE WHO LOVED YOU LIKE YOU ALWAYS WANTED.

All I am is a muddied reflection in a dirty mirror of the man you need.

He walks away and I am not even there.

Miracles are elusive in the darkness of sin.

When I cant find a miracle I'll pretend.
Pretending doesnt help my case either.
I know
I know.
A juggernaut beckons me with angry fingers on my eyes. Older Brother, why so?

Why so?