Time in Heaven has no measure,
Nor does man's earthly treasure;
So, give both freely away
And prepare for Judgement Day.
Know my intentions
When i lose
Feel my emotions
I watch as the fire erupts quick
Such flames never amiss
As the smoke rises
And the people try to stop it
As it consumes
I hold you dearly
Just as the fog becomes endearing
I feel my lungs shutting down slowly
As your breath seems shallow and holy
When i fail
Know i wanted to help you
When i lose
I wanted what's best for you
When i’m gone
This path seems implosive
As i know
As you know I’m closed in
Tighter in my arms i hold you
As you look out at the world consumed
There's clear fear in your mind now
But i am here as everything slows down
As your head falls on my shoulder
And you whisper the words that crush like boulders
My love, i thought we grow older
When i fail
Know that i loved you
When i lose
Hear my heart beating true
When we’re gone
As the fire grows too
As you know
As i know our time is through
Not knowing where Time begins
and ends...I suppose, we could be
anywhere? And if Eternity is true,
well, what does it matter?
So, let’s say that, for now, I am here
with you, and you with me – and all Time
is in the moment...then we are beginning
and end and eternity together.
You speak of End Times. While my life
is one of beginnings; this morning was
Sunrise...and in the evening will be Star
Rise – and I will love you even more
and not less.
Moonlight is liquid – didn’t you know?
A sable brush feathering from sunset, how
we sort of saturate the canvases of one and
other, transverse, cleansing and freshening
our borderlines. Let us paint love tonight.
Using fingers and Tongues, speaking ours
in a primal way
a child-like language of fond and far purer
gibberish.
Call it the Charlie Kirk effect
But for not being a Christian, recently
I’ve been hearing a lot of Bible quotes,
Quotes which I can easily take to heart,
Like the parable of the wheat ripening
In the field
While the weeds also ripened
All around.
It’s not a matter of just wanting one and not the other
And getting our wishes as if they had that power.
It’s a matter of recognizing both,
The difference in the seeds and their causes,
And appreciating how both the crop and the weeds
Are part of our nature, and both will be abundant
When we reach a crisis point of fullness,
Internally as spiritual beings as we struggle
To live the truth within our conflicted nature,
And externally as material beings as this conflict
Plays out in wars, domestic and foreign,
As both sides struggle for survival and dominance.
It’s easy to know which side will prevail
Since one side is of Life
And the other of death.
We might be self-deluded which side we’re actually on
But in the end it will be crystal clear.
Life and death after all
Cannot be confused.
(10/12/25)
In shadows cast on crumbling walls,
A world once vibrant, now enthralls.
Sunset's blaze, a final dance,
As echoes fade, in apocalyptic trance.
Whispers of winds through barren lands,
Silent cries on shifting sands.
A symphony of chaos, nature's last breath,
Embracing demise, the dance of death.
Stars extinguished, night's canvas bare,
Moon weeps softly, a lone despair.
Cities echo ghostly tales,
As the end unfurls, the final veils.
Yet in the ruins, a seed of hope,
Nature's resilient, a lifeline to cope.
From ashes rise a new birth,
A chance for healing, on scarred Earth.
The day that Armageddon came,
he thought the entire thing was kind of lame.
Nothing but the noise and smoke of a fiery battle,
and people, left and right, bloodily slaughtered like cattle ~
not much different really from any other mediocre computerized game.
It will always be the end
Until it really is
It is never the beginning
Until it’s too late to realize
It was
It is always the ever present now
Until it’s not, sooo
Let it never be not
And might as well not
Worry about it
The inevitable is simply,
Inevitable.
“Never limit the is.”
- Richard Bach, 'Illusions'
End times is very
Scary, like you never
Dreamt a dream before.
We spend too much time worried about end times instead of building our faith now
The aging street mourns its faded splendor.
It remembers having red tulips and roses
in manicured, fertilized, emerald lawns
in community yards lining its borders.
But neighborhoods gradually decayed,
and nobody’s planted flowers in years.
The asphalt’s once-black fresh-tar patina
is now gray and chockfull of countless cracks.
In those rifts grow rows of feral weeds
that no person planted or wanted.
Rooted in forgotten fissures of the world,
weeds lift their hearts and heads toward the sky.
Survivors of severe environments,
baked by blazing sun, infrequently watered,
deprived of easy access to nourishing soil,
and squashed by droves of mutilating tires.
Yet, still the stalwart weeds survive,
paragons of beautiful resilience.
Glamorous, fragile flowers are transient.
Plain, ordinary weeds are forever.
For humans who feel our messy lives
are more like run-over weeds than roses,
weeds’ wild fortitude foreshadows
an unexpected, untamed eternity.
When the buds are tender green
And the fig leaves begin to sprout
None will mistake the end time scene,
The earth itself will shout.
Upon a horse,faithful and true,
Jesus returns on a cloud,
As, in the air He comes into view
Every knee is bowed.
Water ,clear as crystal now,flows
Reviving,the once dead;
Those faithful,who Jesus knows,
His name on their forehead.
A new earth,no more fire,sunlight or sea,
But living water that heals,thee and me.
Upon a horse,faithful and true,
Jesus returns on a cloud,
in the air He comes into view
Every knee is bowed.
The book of life is opened,at last
Sin meets it's heart's desire;
The deceiver and the deceived,both cast
into the lake of fire.
Water ,clear as crystal now flows
Reviving,the once dead;
Those faithful,who Jesus knows,have
His name on their forehead.
A new earth,no pain death,sunlight or sea,
A new heaven with God each believer will be
As the gold leaves on the ginkgo fall,
Upon the cold autumn earth.
I think how the winter winds
Sound, as they whip as if in mirth.
Winter is upon us, cold lies ahead.
Can we bear the storms of aging?
I can't help but those dread.
Sometimes I feel like raging.
Dear Lord Jesus, give me strength,
To face and handle each day given.
Help me be the kind of person,
That will be delighted in heaven.
Not just for the reward of gold streets
Nor of the river that flows
And, oh! that tree of life
Food for the body and soul
For the reward of meeting Jesus
And see those Christians gone before.
The awesome sound of the heavenly choir
As they sing original lines, set to a new score.
Oh!! To have love in my heart
A kind of love I have never known before.
To feel a part of a group of people,
Whose love does not keep score.
End Times
Miracle Man
6/12/2023
Today, our way of life is under attack,
were threatened each day by our own doing.
Political differences are having an impact,
and Ungodly things seems were pursuing.
Socialism is rapidly claiming healthcare,
and borders are open for all sorts to come.
Violence has become a frightening affair,
and peaceful means are not the way of some.
Most who come here seek something free,
they couldn’t care less that another has paid.
Many who read this probably won’t agree,
but I truly believe that we’re being played.
I can only pray for the Lord’s soon return,
only then will all things be made whole.
The wheat will be saved and chaff will burn,
God is ready today to save a lost soul.
King James
Matthew 3:12.
“Whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire”.
A slash of light sears my left eye -
end of the world
or just sunshine crashing into a slanted window?
It happens just that quickly
I don't think there will be a time-lapse
or anytime to count the number of
deathly moments
that rush into a cringing brain.
When the end begins.
The balloons will go up
balloons will be downed
nothing to see
until we are all resting
under a great lake of rumor and suspicion.
When the black and white cat
fell of the roof, somebody cried
but the silence downed out all voices.
A train blunders into a happenstance
chemicals are burned,
the deadly smoke gets into every eye,
will we be blinded by fireballs or only mollified
by silent headlines?
The end of the world needs a witness
otherwise it just won't ever end.
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