windswept; vast expanse
of true blue sky cut low
by sanded ocean and
mountains sinking below;

and I stand, looking
at my hand in His,
see His words drop
purposely from His lips to
water my dusty soul

We walk through
wilderness, down through
deserts and up through
folds, and we see drought
come and watch
shadow of death go

And through a land
footless of paths
and empty of homes
We walk
He and I, hand in hand

tie me to You
in a thousand
little strings;
minuscule moments
where we love,
share, and bind
together pieces
of ourselves
in fabric whole

I am not holding my breath
as others have done and
some continue to do; but I am
plunging into the deeps
of this life, and backstroking
through these eddies,
and making my way
through this tide;

I am not waiting to exhale
as other have done and
some continue to do; but I am
breathing my way through
these small currents of joy
and these wisps of pain
and know you are
doing the same

I am not waiting to love
as others have done and
some continue to do; but I am
thirsting after and drinking deeply
of a cascading Ocean
that overflows over this
teacup soul

I am not waiting in vain
as others have done and
some continue to do; but I am
moving in Hope, striving forth
in Thankfulness, dancing in Praise
and living in Love, and I know
you are doing the same

why now are You
pouring forth words
into my blood, and
why now must I burst
forth printed syllabels
that hope to translate
Your live flame
within me?

You are a phenomena;
unknowning of your state
of being, unawares
of the disasters that
follow about your self;
You lift the raising
palms turned fists
to the heavens Above

And power awaits you,
His Power guaranteed
if you would just garner
the doubtable self
from all four corners
of your windswept body
and deliver the prisoner
into His hands.

You - with guiding hands -
motion my knees to kneel
and raise up my hands
to embrace Your face

and Call forth the words
that lay on the tip of my heart;
absorb with thirsting ears,
my praise, my laughter,
my concerns, my sorrows,
my love

You - with guiding hands -
draw forth from crevesses
and ravines of a mountainess
soul, hidden shadows that cumbersomes
the journey into Your Heart

You cannot reflect intregity
nor identify purity since
you have not inimately known
the face of these persecuted
sisters

perhaps I am a maiden
who sits in ivory tower
and sees You approaching
battlements, and knows
You cannot come in
unless I unlatch the door..

For the door is handleless
and yet, You knock...

and I don't even know
how to comprehend
the "what" we have between us;

I tiptoe cautiously
around this inkling
in fear that I may
awaken thoughts
that will jump a neurone
and race towards a pathway
that will lead to an action
that will lead to a possibility
that neither of us
are entirely sure
we want to step into

I have my creeping notions
that we are Janusing one
another on the "what"
that stands between us;