If God would breathe my breath can be some of his
A small boy, my nephew asks me at my mum's place? Let's play ball. I say we can't because we are just about to eat dinner. He says, "why?". I say. Because the adults want to eat dinner. He says, "That does not make sense". What can I say to that?
On the way out of the door, he says, Ryan come and play ball with me. And I say, I cannot as your parents are about to leave. Why do they have to leave he asks? Because your mum is tired I say. And he grabs me and we go play ball. He threw the balls at me and I had to catch them, being the only willing player..
I caught each one, there were 5, and I put them in my pocket. And he said, "why are you putting them in your pocket? I said, "So I can take them out another time and play them later". Later is not known to him, but he knows they are in my pocket. How much to learn from children?
Love is knowing when to keep your balls in your pocket, and standing firm at the crease. The batter asks, "why will you not bowl to me"? Because your bat is still facing the other way.
Eventually, the bowler counts to 100, and the sky is becoming dark. He says, goodbye, I will bowl to the batter that is ready for the ball, and no ball will you ever see from me but the one you lost in your pocket, polished up and handed to me on a silver platter.
so forever in your pocket is a ball of string, forever the string is knotted, but never is the ball forever lost in the pocket. It takes a heavy reach to find the ball, but only your hands can find it.
A heart can break never, or it can break forever, and forever broken is broken by the heart, but it must come from forever, the beginning of the heart and the end of the heart.
Can i hear the wind? No I cannot. That is just the leaves dancing with the flow. Can I feel the wind? Of course, I feel the wind and from where it came. I feel the wind and the branches it sways. But a wind that is distance is a wind that will not settle. It blows one day and then the next. I breathe it in and breathe it out until the wind changes.
How many times shall I listen to a distant wind that cannot find the beginning to the string of ball in the pocket, when my hands are too far, my eyes are too deep, my heart is too solid? I breathe tt in and I breathe it out, until the wind comes true in a hurricane of feeling. That says, "I remember why, I forget how, but I know you"
The true tree stands the test of all winds. And says "look how you have fallen, and still you do not reach out for me with all your branches and all your leaves, the sap in the middle, and the roots that dig deep". What more can a tree do if he knows the way to grow? May he say no to the weeds that strangle him if not for the flowers that fail to grow?
It is easy to create your own secret garden, if you are afraid of the park, but then who will make the park beautiful if your secret is held inside?
How easy children believe? How easy it is to be an adulterer to them all. How can one remember a time so free, yet spend their time taking away that freedom? How hard it is to wear love on your chest and walk the street with head held high? But how good do you feel after the walk? Perhaps you have never tried.
Apathy: Someone else will do it but never will.
Loose your life to gain it. Love as you walk amongst the snakes in the grass. Wear your feet thin as the sands of time. And tomorrow the snakes will grow legs. The hardest thing is to love in an unloving world. Even harder is carry it as a missile on your shoulder. The war is at home, but you see only the war away.
Love is not just a theory. Not just a rule of thumb. It is formless. It speaks for itself, and says "for the sake of love this is what I must do". Love can is as small as your eyes and ears, and as large as the opening of them both. It is not peace, it is not song, it is not a kiss. It is what must be to open up the love in all.
So if love were a kiss to a person open to a kiss, then it is love. But if a kiss if not from both, why not begin with the hand? Love can be a knife. Love can be a syringe. But the ultimate of love is knowing where the love will lead so there be no knife, so there be no injection. Such is God from the first to the last. A mystery to the depths of love, but a monster on the surface, for the depth you can only see.
If my dog bit my hand, I would yell at the dog. Because the dog has ears for that. But if the dog licked my hand, I would scratch his belly, because the dog has a heart for that. But how can I scratch his belly if he always bites my hand?
So when God sends a flood, does he not love? When God sends a rainbow does he not love? The man who looks deep sees into the deep. The man who looks shallow sees only himself. Why is it always someone else? What about you?
Am I here a man speaking for God? Every man speaks for God. In their own way, as per God speaks in them.
I write not poetry, but spiritual story, to explain the spirit in a way that the spirit knows. It is a learning curve, to find the words to reach the heart, to speak from the left and the right, and the top and the bottom
Even if the batter faces the bowler at last. There is still the wind that can send the ball in any direction. So fickle is love, the eye of the needle.
I hope my words fill something, because I felt they came from a good place.