My Battle!!!!

There are times I feel like I don't belong.

Times I feel like, I say, think, feel, and do everything wrong.

How long, how long, Until I only hear your sweet song?

I still struggle with my instincts.

So many kinks.

There are times it's like I'm mopping the floor with my bum, 

on a slippery ice rink.

Or slipping down a clogged up kitchen sink.

My eyes twitch too much to call it a wink.

It is more like a spasming blink.

I'm like an old tinker toy.

If it wasn't for Your resurrection.

I wouldn't have ever had that special section.

The one that holds the connection.

It is this that keeps me from defecting.

You are my very own sweet and savory confection.

Listen and Look!!!!

Be still and listen.

My children are pleading and wishing.

Someone please, see that I'm missing.

Look close, their tears sparkle and glisten.

While their minds are churning.

Their hearts are burning.

Please, do not ignore the hissing.

Remember, each cheek is in need of kissing.

Stand close.

Do not boast.

 Be on guard with the holiest of Host.

Do not get consumed by the fat roast, or the toast.

Remember most, your post.

Everyone get ready from coast to coast.

Your brother's and sister's are dying.

My heart throbs, from all their crying.

Time is flying.

This can not be fixed, with a little buying.

And it is going to take more than miming.

Listen to the rhyming.

It is all in the timing.

Saul became Paul....

Can you feel My breath on your sweet face?

It is not just a trace.

I am here with you, in this place.

You are more beautiful, than ivory and lace.

You have been anointed, with the oil from My vase.

There is a reason your name is Grace.

I chose you from the beginning, of this race.

You no longer have to roam.

I am bringing you home.

You will not have to atone.

I sent someone whose sacrifice,

pierced straight, through His bones.

I've heard your painful groan.

You have never been alone.

My Son laid upon that cross.

So you would never be lost.

And He says, it was worth every bit of the cost.

You keep beating your head against the wall.

As if you are throwing a ball.

Please, stop, so that you may hear My call.

You are more lovely, than a hand painted doll.

I will catch you every time you fall.

It is time you have the gall.

I will lead you in to My hall.

You may feel like you are walking blind,

but trust me, as did Saul, and I will open your eyes, like Paul.

Too long you have been battling.

To stay on top of My mountain.

Instead of walking about rattling.

Climb in My boat, and I will do all of the paddling.

Once we get to My valley.

There will be no time to dally.

It is here you will rest, in My galley.

Just in time for the rally.

Love, Love, Love....

Come take a peek.

My love for you burns deep.

I sow and you reap.

There is not a thing,  I would not do for you.

 No valley is too steep.

And over every mountain, I will leap.

For every tear that drops from your precious cheek, I weep.

Your thoughts of perfection, all lay in a heap.

My breathe is in the breeze.

Feel it wash over you, let it seep.

The doubts will try to creep.

But this vision is what you need to keep.



From Prophecy to Salvation....

Who spoke in fear? Yet, quite clear, Isaiah.

Who was the one, they didn't want to hear,

but was always near, Jeremiah.

Who got it in gear? and was so dear, Hosea.

Who withstood the jeers and the leers? Obadiah.

Who was treated quite queer? Almost every year, Zephaniah.

Who did they try to veer? by using his peers, Zechariah.

Who made it His career, to suffer and save us,

with His every tear? Messiah.



Mothered by our Father....

You have inflicted your own toll.

Woe, woe, woe.

Slid down the pole into a hole.

You are not the first to roll.

This is My goal.

To lay you on a grassy knoll.

All covered in coal.

Like a mare bathes her foal.

I will bathe you from My bowl.

My loved one, I have your soul.

War!!!!

There is a knock at the door.

Here to remind me, we are all in a bloody war.

The end is near.

I can feel it down to my core.

From the rich, to the poor.

We must help relieve the grief and soak up the gore.

The enemy is raging around like a wild boar.

Inside of me, there is a deep need to do more.

Sometimes the battle is a deafening roar.

Remember, we are all on our tour.

Your's and mine, mine and your's.

I feel the winds pick up from every four.

We must, and will soar.

Why? because our Victor is not a mythical tale.

Nor a well known folklore.

He is Immanuel, the Saviour.

The one and only, perfect Troubadour.