Home

Sometimes I feel the weight of the world baring down on my shoulders and the slaves between every joint in my body screams for reprieve from the mass of infinite matter of matters beyond my mass and the mass he holds every Sunday. Sometimes I make time to attend and talk with him. His hymns help me recognize my own sin. Not those from tablet and mountain treks but those from misguided decisions and fruitless regrets. It’s not about sects or religious texts, but being a prefect in the context of your own humanity not buckling under the stress of the daily hum-drum insanity of the everyday world within which we exist. This is the non-contingent definition of substance. Righteous Constance and keeping karma’s cards held close to the chest in cosmic balance. You see, some things are in fact bigger than us. Greater than our self-proclaimed fate – teachings to bleed out the hate scrape off the built up rust in us through understanding, compassion and trust. And love. He preaches love. Whether you believe he sits idly above or floating in our blood streams careening through the tide pools of our internal eternity so as to never collect dust. In all things, Faith is a must. Faith in the living. Faith in the uplifting. Faith in the belief that you and I are better and brought forth for more than anything before us that was. Hand me the Consciousness Brush. Paint me the color of hope and tighten the rope to my Father. Let him not let go and when I’m caught in the undertow let him collect my Mother, Gaia. From the earth to the skies. And let it not succumb to surprise, that the purpose of worthiness is enough. Which is why for some, Sunday’s are a must. And some are so full of lust, but their desires are towards compassion in a fashion that brandishes the over-soul and third eye in its sashes. Covered in garments. Protected from torment. And sent to end the spent human pride of people who think they’ve given all when they tried and release what they think is the last of their heart as they cried. And that’s when he pulls you close to his side, and lets all bask, in the light of his eyes.

One thought on “Him

Thoughts? Response?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s