Waiting

I follow my breath

In....

out...

waiting.

restless but still.

trying to dwell.

Not taking control.

Not manipulating.

Not orchestrating.

Just waiting.

Just being.

I follow my breath.

in...

out...

Called to be still and know

that I am not God.

Only in knowing God

can I be changed.

Not in doing. Not in striving.

Just in being. in His presence

waiting.

waiting for Him to come near

to blow off the cloud that envelops me

named Fear.

He'll hold out His hand,

and ask me to dance.

But first I need to wait.

Be still enough for Him to draw closer.

So He can change me

and give me courage to dance.

And so I wait

and follow my breath.

in......

out.....

in....

out....

Music in the Night

My whole life I've been used to seeing.

Taking it all in. Making sense of it.

Categorizing. Analyzing.

Looking for hidden things.

Connecting things in patterns.

My mind has well-worn byways the thoughts travel down.

My eyes see. I recognize things, people, patterns.

Yet this last few months I've been thrown into the dark.

All the familiar things I'm used to seeing around me are questioned

as I reach out to feel them and find them changed.

or find in my lack of seeing a need to change.

Darkness still surrounds me.

The more I squint into the blackness, the darker it becomes.

This throws my world into chaos.

I cannot order it.

I cannot make sense of it.

I cannot control it.

I've been trying to rest in this dark place.

to be still. to feel. to expect surprise and not with dread.

and as I sit and try to connect to my heart and not my eyes.

I become aware.

of a beauty that swells and dips. that clangs and soothes.

I hear the strains that I can't make sense of or control.

I hear the music in the night.

my own soul.

The Shift

A turning. change. unexplainable difference.

Within a weight now gone.

Feet on the ground pointed now towards you

not pointed to heaven, looking down.

The case of my skin over muscle and bone.

A face--now mine to own.

The throat connecting the mind and heart

not severed and silent and sore.

A voice is birthed when join the two.

It builds within me.......I let it forth.

So here I sit in my own skin.

So here I speak with my own voice.

I meet the I that dwells within.

I meet the eye that dwells within.

The Quest

Lost in darkness and shadow

yet seeking still.

Wondering where God is

and what the heck this means.

Why did I feel so compelled to come here

when all this now seems bleak?

Waiting for a revelation.

Hungering.

Screaming.

Desperate.

Grasping at air.

Yet I'm haunted by the echo:

"He's doing a new thing"

Must I now sing a new song?

Hunger for richer food than what I picture?

Scream for answers from a God till now unknown?

Do I hope for old revelation in a new time?

The old wineskins cannot bear the new wine.

So here I stand

to embrace the Mystery

that's already overtaken me.

I'll walk the quest.

Shadowlands

When black and white are diluted into grayness

When what's obvious in the light is throw into doubt

When the presumed straight path throws a hairpin turn

Then you know you're in the shadowlands.

Is it evil? is it good?

Some unhelpful mingling of the two?

an image that shifts depending on stance?

Fear is the only sun that shines.

Passing of time the only hope.

When what you seek to reach for

glides softly and damningly through your fingers

When you suddenly don't know who you are,

but are powerless to do anything than just to be

When your only plea is for a hand to grasp yours in the darkness

and surprisingly...it does. Flesh to flesh

a friend's? a brother's? God's?

It matters not. You are not alone.

and two voices join to sing the song of the shadowlands.