Audience of One

                Standing in a room full of hundreds of eyes fixed on me!  I am a dancer, a performer of sorts; I move my body for the crowd’s enjoyment.  Leaping and swirling, jamming and breaking, as graceful as a swan.  They laugh, they cheer for an encore so I give them more.  Moving my body in ways unimaginable I am strong flexible, yet masculine.  In this room I am king, no one can tell me what to do.

                Now I sing for my audience of thousands! With a voice as soft as a psalm, and more beautiful than the song birds of faraway lands I the crowed weeps at the magnificence, and true innocents in my voice.  When I finish they cheer with tears and scream for more.

                “More I say “what more can I give my adoring fans?”” 

                Applause after applause wringing through this beautifully constructed cathedral I’ve called home sense I was a little boy. 

                Something’s out of place, in the crowd someone does not cheer.  There is one rule for my cathedral and that is to cheer for me, and when you don’t cheer you are omitted from the room.  They are cast out like moldy foods that which the homeless care not to eat.

                I regain my composure after the man’s rude actions and begin my third piece.  Reaching into my coat I pull out my Violin.  With the flick of my wrist the music flows like a waterfall into the crowed. 

                Tap, tap, tap!  “stop the noise please” I say and continue playing

                Tap, tap, tap!  I snap from my grand cathedral to find myself back in my room of four white walls, and the steel door in front of me. 

                “Hey keep it down Patient 0025” said the Guard

Let Go Of It All And Give It To God

Today I tried to venture out onto the prayer trail, but I became very afraid and promptly doubled back and sat on the bench outside land.  Why did I do this you ask, because I needed to scream, yell, shout, and holler all my anger and frustration I was feeling.  Everyone needs a good release and that was mine but I passed it up out of fear.   So I started punching the ground instead of screaming, yelling, shouting, and hollering.  Wondering when I’ll decide enough is enough or when I decided to let it all out.

                Oh God, I want to worship you in all that I do and oh how I have my work cut out for me. 

After promptly deciding I’ve taken enough I decided to venture back to my dorm to wright this in hopes of making myself feel better.  My hands hurt but my heart is calm, thank you God.  You gave me exactly what I needed today.

Find your outlet, plug in and release it all as long as it’s a healthy one and you’ll feel better. 

Letters To My Husband (A short story)

Letters to My Husband

In the small town of Clifton, Arkansas there lived an elderly woman of about 83 years of age by the name of Mary, Mary Slacks.  With grey hair, and wrinkled expression she lived out her life in a cottage in the woods of Clifton.  Oh how she loved God!  She worshiped him every day and gave glory to his name.  Mary never married or dated for she trusted God would bring her true love.  She had been writing letters to this man every day since she was a little girl to give to him when married.  On the last night she would ever spend in Clifton she wrote her last letter, saying; “Dearest Husband I cannot wait for you to be with me in the kingdom of heaven, I love you more than you know. With much love your loving wife Mary.”

In Mary’s old age she had left the stove on after making dinner.  The Fire Department was too late; the house had been engulfed by the jaws of the fiery blaze.  Everything was destroyed and Mary Killed, but out of the fire came a silver lining.  A small metal box was found by the Chief by the name of Dan.  After returning to the station he decided to investigate the contents of the box in hopes of finding a relative’s name or address.  What he found were hundreds of sheets of paper written in letter format.  As he began to read he noticed these were addressed to an unnamed husband.  As he read further he found a splendid simplicity and beauty in the way she spoke of the unnamed man. 

Dan had not been a man of God and of little faith that there even is one.  Yet he felt something in these letters drawing him in.  He lived a solitary life as the towns Fire Chief.  Everyone who knew Dan knew him as a man with what they call in Clifton “bad lady luck”.  With no faith but common interest he began reading the letters to find out who Mary had been referring to in her letters.  Mary had mentioned God in her letters and how her husband is the very model of his Beauty in her life.  With that he went to Church one Sunday to see if the gentlemen she spoke of would be there.  He did not find what he was looking for but found something new.  The Pastor of the Church had started a sermon on Gods undying love.  This moved Dan to tears as he had chosen to be saved that day.

30 years have passed since Dan had given his life to Christ he had retired from the Fire Department during this time and in those 30 years he went on various mission trips and participated in many outreaches in the U.S.  He had Glorified Gods name and did so in good Faith.  One evening while teaching the small group at his church about Love and Marriage a young man asked with good intent why he had never been married.  His response was hesitant and steady.  “Because I . . . . . I’m not sure myself,”” I guess I never really thought about it”” The man’s words laid heavy on Dan’s shoulders.

Later at home he had rummaged through some old boxes looking for the one he’d found so many years ago.  Upon finding the box that belonged to Mary, he opened it with the blind intent of a child.  Drawing out the letters he had long sense forgotten from the day he had been saved.  He began to read again.  Reading letter after letter he began to fall in love with the women who wrote the beautiful words about her husband. 

Upon continuing his lesson at small group he told the class he was in love.  They persistently asked who this mystery woman was.  After telling them she was in heaven waiting for him sounds of sighs, and awe’s filled the class.  They didn’t understand what he truly had meant by the statement but they had good intent. 

Dan kept reading the letters till he lay on his deathbed.  With his last bit of life left he read the last note Mary had written.  “Dearest Husband I cannot wait for you to be with me in the kingdom of heaven, I love you more than you know. With much love your loving wife Mary.”  With that Dan had died and woke in a bright and wondrous place.  Before him stood a man and that mas was God.   He led him to the gates and spoke of what was beyond the gates for him and all who came to Heaven.  Entering the gates Dan saw a figure standing a few yards away.  “Mary?” he asked, “Yes” she replied with a voice as soft as a Psalm.  “It’s me” Dan!”” with expecting eyes he waits for a response.   “I know and I’ve been waiting for you.”  She took his hand and they began to walk into the Paradise that awaits them.

“What’d  you think of the letters?”

Imagination

Admiring nature’s beauty bequeathed unto me

A Junebug lands on my shoulder

I ask his name, and get no response

A vow of silence I assume

Understanding what I must do

I clear my mind and quite myself

The wind blows; I hear whispers from all around

It’s the trees speaking to me

The butterfly’s fluttering above

Whispering the secrets of the forest

I spy Deer prancing in a rhythmic fashion

Everything around me is teeming with a life I’ve only imagined

The forest is alive and overjoyed

Overjoyed to have a human speak to them in years

“Greetings and Salutations” they say with enthusiasm

They tell me stories of old

I ask why they chose to speak now

“To never speak, unless spoken to” they say

“But I always talk to the forest” I say

“You must listen to the forest” they chime

I feel a sense of regret having never truly listened until now

There’s a buzz in my ear and I turn to see what it was

It’s the Junebug on my shoulder

I had forgotten him in all the excitement

Calling out to say goodbye

He leaves me without a word

A strange feeling, one I’m not familiar with over takes me

I’m in a daze now and can’t tell dream from reality

It’s that early morning feeling you get when you can’t tell whether you’re really awake

As my vision fades in and out I come to

With blood shot eyes I pack up my belongings and head home

“It must have been a dream” I say

Dismissing the idea of something greater

Days go by like seconds on a clock

Walking to class a familiar face appears

It’s the Junebug from the forest

“Hello” I say

“Greetings and salutations”