My friend, for the weeks

for the countless daze

when we brushed our cheeks against friendship’s face

I will write you these pages

I will bleed these words- spoke a hundred times,

but never really heard

You see, to hear a truth is not just to taste

You can’t sample a crumb, and the rest you waste

when you really believe

and concieve the light God sends your way-

you know it well; it was the one you’ve been asking for, seeking for these past years

you asked, and yet do not accept the answer

you cannot eat and not act, the feast shall rot inside of you if the word remains dormant at your feet

You must swallow it raw to bring about a change

and I’m here, always was

I never went, walked or flew away on wings of complacent heart

or uncaring winds

but the truth of the matter is that you’re running scared.

Yes, you hear me right, brother.




You’re running hard

Like a criminal dashes

with the law on his heels

you run from the syllable that you most need



fire ants

moving up and down your spine

you can’t sit still or simply take the time

I just wonder what will happen when you run out of time; that time you never took. What then?

Do you not see? I ache more for you and will the drawing of your first breath than

you ever could

I just wonder when you’ll sit and listen

and trully hear

or is disaster alone what will make your knee-caps drop to the floor

There, on your face, like a true Disciple

you plead and pray

But come and see the cycle!

How can he be heard or get a single word in

if you’re too busy doing his job for Him?

Where did the humble spirit go? Where did the truth-hunger vanish?

Make room, make room

He will not share the throne with you

you know this.

He doesn’t do half-way, and you will never trully call him King

if you don’t reliquish your cold, icy grip on the crown

and if your ego stays

Must that Beast of Pride and Ego guard your gates?

You think you keep your enemies out, while you really rot away on the inside of those walls

no security, only isolation

when did you exchange the real for the amateur

the true for the fake

the pure for the imitation

have shadows given you so much light you would chase them to the ends of yourself?

have beautiful lies given you such comfort you would build your house on their foundation?

you have gone after empty words and useless sayings

willl you not go after true wisdom once more?

let their resemblance remain untouched by your eyes

let their imitations lay unknown by your ears

Will you not cry out to Him

not like an angry man, but like a hungry child?

Like a clam, clamped shut, till the outside’s polished and the inside wastes


Don’t trust

don’t lean

don’t fall into arms

No, because it’s not as if that’s what you need

Those who cloud your mind you call friends, those who lead you astray you call your family

Do you call this living or your good luck charms?

My friend, my friend, do not die before your time


Will you not call the name you do not know

and utter the words of your prayers as if for the first time

only this time, to mean them

His arms are not like your mind

they remain open

and his heart is not like your love

it remains alive and warm

and beating louder than the drums of your empty march

Stop calling what is His word ‘poetry’

and stop calling his commands ‘friendly advice’

His messengers have turned away from your door

unheard and your heart untamed

His life is not a lifestyle, nor is his help suggestions

Why do you fight for a freedom already given you

and a choice already granted you

stop playing the rebel and face the warrior which you were meant to be

there is no need to stand for your rights

they are yours

although they were never rights, but gifts

and now,

enough with decoy plans and dreams that are little more than fantasies

enough with hiding

he meets you not on a battle field

but in a garden

not with the law, nor with lawlessness will he lead you into a kingdom you have not even tasted the seed of

but allow him, in this garden, to plant in you a world you will erupt into

No longer a copy you shall be

but an original image of him

Lay down the rocks and take up the sword

forget your pride and take up honour

bow low to stand tall


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