Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Thoughts at Wake the Dead

The diesel engines roar through the back alleys and aquaducts of my mind. I hear them calling out, echoing as they pass on the
highway, each climb through the gear thundering like the terrible lizard. Roaring. Howling. Pushing the winds together. Each wheel in their mechanism speeding forward the times, faster. Faster. Everytime, even with the quite ones, the sound of the friction of the rail or highway pierces through into the gap, releasing nothingness into the pits of my mind, into known space. Laughter, as they seep into the shadows to hide, to wait until the time. I don't care too much. They've been breaking through since long before I was ever around. And I know for rock solid that once it's over and we're all out of here they won't be where we're going. And so I smile, and I forget about them, for they are no harm to me. But nevertheless, I can hear them, ripping through sound as they pass.
I am optimistic. Clarity from the Lord. Breaks in the cloud producing possibilities, rising up at the last possible moment to save me from the loss of progress concerning the continuation. How the Lord keeps me in His hand? What quickly annoying a little critter I must be as He scoops me up each time only to watch me scurry like an ant or crawling bug to jump from salvation and back to the lowly and dark places of the ground. Beneath the trodding feet of those whom would destroy me.
Breaks in the clouds, as work begins and ends, providing the pulse of an art continuum in which I repeatedly have little faith. Forgive me for that. AMEN.

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