LIVE

Green is sprouting, comming up, everywhere the eye can see.
Skies are blue, clouds shifting shape in an endless sea.
Kites flying high above drifting, flying, sailing above.
Bubbles float; they dance accross the wind in droves.
Laughter echoes... Smiles are spreading...
Music drifts, as life dances before time.
Father, for all these things, Thank you.
But even if grey replaces green;
Rain to take over sun.
If the only flight is of our strength;
And hearts are too heavy to float.
When tears flow, drowning out laughter;
Then music, too, becomes a lament.
Father, for this too, Thank you.

Fools tapping away...

April Fools, and here I am. Tip-tapping away at the keyboard, catching up with the work to attain that "finished" feeling that will always elude, it's always just out of reach.
Dear God. Here I am. Tapping away pencils in the moonlight, I hope you recognize me. I've grown much more accustomed to feeling nothing at all. In my efforts to fit in.
The clock's tick-ticking away. I'm still tip-tapping today.
My theology's not popular conversation. My best friend's offensive. It'd be sooner accepted to spit in anothers face than mention the name of Jesus. Dear God, I hope you still recognize me.
April fools. Who's the fool?