The Desert: Children of the Sun I’m dreaming for these, these months to come, that they’d be brighter than the sun, and may we reach out, reach out our arms, to find what’s near and what is far. Reason’s hope and reason’s fate, that we might find ourselves today, embracing hours and moments stitched. In such time we do exist. And still I’m dreaming of these, months with rattled suitcases, pictures of… the ceaseless faces, traced above, painted colors, of the sun. I am no prophet, for future’s sovereign, land extends beyond my pockets. Surely we without knowing why, care so deeply without showing. How to show and how to read, these small wonders may always be. These hands they shake now, watched out awake, only in song can one relate, And still I’m dreaming of these, months with rattled suitcases, pictures of… the burnt out lanterns strewn across, the wooden floors with ancient moss, the people talk as one, their messages written as they run, their ceaseless faces, traced above, painted colors, of the sun. the ceaseless faces, painted colors, traced above, because we’re children, children of the sun Graffiti Shooting blanks off the canvas, happens water in a cold stance. I feel fine, yet I'm restless of a different kind. Am I low? Am I low and away? And I low? Am I low and away? Seconds tick, my pulse is quick, this soul is yearning to ROAM. And I get the feeling that You're healing my bones, And I get the feeling that You're healing my soul. Walking in this city, am I walking alone? Are You with me? Can You hear me? Am I walking alone? I'm like the wick of a candle, or falling quartz off a mantle. I see fine-flamed reflections. I thought the clock had died. Oh why? Am I low? Am I low? Am I low and away? Seconds tick, my pulse is quick, this soul is yearning to ROAM. Where've you been, Innocence? the flash and the color looking outside in, this window is finishing the pictures, in my head The currents and the silence, the beating of my heart, the grip of the violence, is keeping us apart, And there's, there’s writing on the walls, like graffiti on my heart. Vagrants Pieces, of shells washed up on the beach, within footprints, A hundred facts, impressed into the sand People are walking, carrying their dreams, on their backs, like mystics, in a caravan from the east, Fragments of atonement fell, into the well. How might we retrieve them? We come as kings and queens, like vagrants in disguise, travelers following, this luminescent guide, now higher than the human race could reach suspended in a moment. What style could still, within the looking glass, above the aisles now filled with vagrants? It was the culprit so elusive, so ephemeral… held, Fragments of atonement fell, into the well. How might we retrieve them? Is it so? Treehouse Clashes filled with political motives, power-trips in our heads, can’t stop the revolutions, spinning in a lost cause looking for something, and it’s here, I can tell, somewhere far below the surface, you’re not well, and you’re here, so still, almost frozen, so I’ll, hold a light, to your darkness inside, and we’ll wait for the break, give this another try. This seems like another one, of those broken puzzle pieces. There’s a treehouse in the middle of nowhere, standing in the green wide open. “Unadorned,” says a soothsayer, simple as it lives is the truth there. Cool mist floating through the windows, constellations like signals in the dark, Constant still anticipation, shepherds running over the hills, The splendor of a midnight clearing, fortunate witnesses rushing, Then their hands tensed up in fear. All of us were saying, How the robbers keep robbing, and the players keep playing, don’t stop, don’t stop, praying for a miracle, Let’s, take some time, to give some thanks, for the ones, for the One who gave us everything, beyond, beyond, a love that’s deeper than anything, So I’ll, hold a light, to your darkness inside, and we’ll wait for the break, give this another try, This seems like another one, of those broken puzzle pieces, of another life. Make Us a Shelter Make us a shelter, for a day when it’s raining, outside, on a cold winter’s night. and we’ll take these stones, and place them where our hopes, are growing thin. The sand beneath my feet, refuses to stand still, while the wind and the waves, carry it away. So we set off so boldly, with every good intention, Oh, did I mention? we’re starting again. Still we’re cold with doubt, figuring the folds that frame this house. We turned inside out, watching all the walls fall down. Young: Down in the Glade down in the Glade where i walked yesterday i saw script written Fate staring back at me saying “You cannot face this alone oh no there’ll be angels awaiting your Prodigal Soul” there is a Grace i am sure, i am sane this is how I left off this is how i began “come out slowly crawling on your calloused hands and knees” then a Voice came soft and low it was only a whisper lost in a crowded room there is a Grace i am sure, i am sane this is how i left off this is how I began As the Cedars Grow I don’t want to take Your Glory I just want to fill my cup after all this is Your Story all I can do is empty myself in you are the Potter and I am the clay you are the Writer and I am the ink with every stroke I am made I am made Whole And Pure As the Cedars Grow I don’t want to steal your Glory I just want to fill my cup after all this is Your Story all I can do is empty myself in Love Invenire Te I was just listening to a Transmission to the sound and the frequency of a car as it fades down the street and Your window was the Medium between the faintness oh the faintness of a minute’s Wish is Evidence buried in my Youth Oh I Pray because Faith in the Restlessness State, is to be One with the Silence of the Infinite Only just a Sojourn is the Moment that we hold So Sacred our Souls How we cannot comprehend Them I was just holding Your Head in my hands Like a Child with a smile From an innocent Desire I acquiesce oh the faintness of a minute’s wish is Evidence buried in my youth Oh I Pray that We remain Fragile within the Fear and the Awe that’s in this Space because Faith in this Restlessness State, is to be One with the Silence of the Infinite Only just a Sojourn is the Moment that we hold So Sacred our Souls How we cannot comprehend Them I want to know You Why are You so shy? Invenire Te Kharizestai how the priest's four Words could chase the fullness of the present state the message fixed in Symbols lit the language fails to capture it Efficacious as a dirge within the words that call to Earth heaven's mirth the emptiness Kenosis as the Body rests Chris Rod got shot outside the park He was walking after dark He got caught between the Harm the Hurry of the Crossfire He became the Scapegoat slain motionless on pavement lain His arms outstretched His figure framed a gesture of His silent Pain Veronica was running late she'd just locked the entrance Gate and as She left the Sacred Lane She witnessed how the Victim cried "Why have You forsaken Me?" What Veronica saw between the shakes and the coughs the Bloodstains on Her Cloth reminiscent of the Face of God. I am blind calmest wit follows qualms within like snow then crystal thin rogue ice cold guise hard to recognize at night spies I need to hide before they find my Tracks I cannot wait another day a demon's quip lay motionless locked in wilderness (a Klondike abyss) rogue silence quiet violence hard to recognize the mind spies I need to define before they find my tracks I cannot wait another day Who am I? I am blind Medicine Man Oh... you're weary arms, hold you together, you're delicate as a feather, my love. Oh... your feeble bones, are breaking under the pressure, breaking under the weight of all you've done. No, you don't have to conquer this one. Your eyes... are half open, it's no use closing, it's no use closing them now, 'cause when you see your self clearly the image starts to fall away, and I can begin to make you well. No, you don't have to conquer this one. You Are Who Is I feel that You Are I know that You Are I believe that You Are that You Are. from Corazón: Come Back From the Deep Author of Life Who is the father of chaos and lies and who is the author of life? for all of diabolos's schemes and scattering he surely must know he's in vain And it takes a toll (And it takes a toll) "I can't believe what you've done..." creation groans and aches what did the Spirit see As it left the Son's broken body And descended into a sea Filled with souls locked in Dante's Dream? Oh, how can a Father of lights from above watch as his Son dies below? for a moment it seems the deceiver is king while the Temple Veil tears into two And it takes a toll (And it takes a toll) "I can't believe what you've done..." creation groans and aches what did the Spirit see As it left the Son's broken body And descended into a sea Filled with souls locked in Dante's Dream?
encountering mystery of a personal kind through impressions, dialogue, little ways, obscurity, and peculiar sorts of narratives
