Life's Little Keepers

All day long my mind is spinning,

my pen; scribbling everything down.

My heart skips a beat, I must remember.

Later, I'll wish to recall my now.

I find a leaf upon the pavement,

Cliche-ly carved into a heart.

While maybe it's not awe-inspiring,

from it, I would not dare to part.

I'll bury it inside my pocket,

continue on my merry way.

And know you're love for me is steady,

for I did not see one yesterday.

No Trade is Fair

For the tiny humans who will never understand their own beauty.
But specifically one, beloved, Elyssa:

Hesitantly, I set my eyes upon you.

For I know in my heart this one sight will change it all.

You sing for me, one note, and my heart is softened.

The Lord, The Lord. My chest is pounding.

I have come to love you.

I have come to reflect on you the Light that lives inside of me.

I fail.

I am too distracted by the Light in you.

How is it that yours shines so bright?

You say nothing.

You say something.

Doesn't matter, language barrier.

So in the nothing I hear, I am seeing it all.

You're eyes. They speak.

Did you know?

They tell me of His unfailing love for me.

Of his desires to win my heart.

"It's His already." A wordless reply.

You're smile. It screams.

In perfect contrast with your darkened skin.

It shouts of surrender.

 With such vibration it loosens the grip of my hands.

"Here am I, Lord! I am Yours!"

Your hands. They convince.

Coated in the dust of His creation.

"Now, to Him who is ABLE." They infuse with every squeeze.

"Okay! Okay!" My soul bursts in agreement.

No ounce of me was purposed for my own keeping.

I am not my own.

And it was you who taught me that.

Did you know?

The Orchid

What is a flower that I am not?

Simultaneously, living. Dying.

Breathing Life's air, inching closer to extinction.

Placed strategically in fertile soil, by the Gardeners mighty hand.

Purposed for growth & beauty.

Often over-looked, still, often looked-over.

                                        where does she flourish? 

                                                                    where does she whither?

                                 does she curve & bend upon a widening path?

                                                        or reach up through the straight & narrow?

                        are her roots exposed to careless treading?

                                                                 or deeply found in safety's core?

                                       do they fail to drink when rain is pounding?

                                                                    or receive until she longs for more?

The Light-Source leaves her' face a-beaming,

the curious halt to see her glow.

The warmth protects her fragile being,

from weathering the winter's snow.

                                                 How might safety reign upon her,

                                                       but through the Gardener's tending hands?

She tries to stand tall, bold & lovely,

but fails to keep her own life-plans.

"I am a flower, aren't I Father?"

the Gardener answers in reply,

"Yes, indeed, my helpless daughter.

                                                       You are an Orchid

                                                                              & you are mine."

Hey There Haiku

im a fan of blogs
not so much of commitments
don't expect too much