The Kingdom yet to come.

I slept soundly until the the dawn cracked wide open.
The birds were singing like they were singing just for me.
The room was filled with an air of blessed thoughts,
And my dream had not yet left dreamland for consciousness.
I tried to make sense of the parting dream before it faded.
The night is at odds with morning like two different worlds.
What goes on while we are sleeping, and What foolishness?
What mischief, the owl and moth, the bat, and the rat? 
The only daytime thing that doesn't sleep at night 
Is the clock that ticks faithfully beside my bed.
Do we dream our own dreams or is someone dreaming us?
My dreams are a misty view through the window of my soul
Unto another world behind the filmy curtain of Paradise.
My dream companion, my hearts content, is my Lord and Savior, 
He was, and is, and ever shall be, my guiding light. 
I am happy to know that He is there for me at night,
But I am also happy to see the open eye of another morning,
To live and work, and pray, for the greater glory of God
And a ticket to His glorious Kingdom yet to come.

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Among other things...

Sometimes when I am searching under the seat cushions
On the armchairs of history or philosophy, inter alia,
To see if there are wayward crumbs of wit or wisdom
That the vacuum cleaners of lost edits failed to get.
Continually coming up empty handed, I get the feeling 
That indeed there is nothing new under the sun and
I am just a pup chasing its tail to no particular avail.
It is apparent that those "Aha!" moments are by design
Only few and far between and they are likely reserved
For those who climb the highest peaks no matter what,
And bear the costs of risk for the sake of honest truth, 
To be on the side of He who tells the finger of fate 
What to write, and exactly how to say it, and move on.
For God has put it into their hearts to carry out 
His purpose by being of one mind, united in the hope
That the world can be made a better place if we only try.
In order that I might find some favor in His sight,
I will give Him my heart and soul and try harder.

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Repair the World!

Are the means to an end themselves the end,
Delusional fictions that give life to lies?
Are there really alternative facts as well?
Did not God make man from dust and is not man
As befits the made, the inferior of the two,
Not purposed to create facts from lies, but
To avoid the bad, the ugly, and the false, and
To seek the good, the beautiful, and the true?
Is not man's attempt towards truth God's intent?
Can man ever create truth like God? Certainly not.
Nothing that never had life shall get it from man.
Rather it is the purpose of man to repent and
Correct what he has already done in error.
Those fortunate few with an abundance of life, or
The multitudes without much, it doesn't matter,
When it comes to the truth only one thing does.
Only belief in God makes way for a new beginning.
Faith completes the incomplete circle of life and
God redeems man's soul from total obscurity
By way of man's love for God and his fellow men.
"Tikkun Olam," the ancients say, "Repair the World!"
Imagine how it will feel when you are too late,
For by that time it really will be...too late.

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