The Dark Ocean

There is a star outside that burns brighter than any other star and its screaming a name, your name, her name, the names of people you forgot you ever knew.

The sea beneath that star is dark and vast, and endless, and it holds all that was and is and will ever be.

You are naked beneath the star floating on that ocean, and you are all alone. Your eyes are wide, full of the heavens above. A cool breeze blows across the wetness of your skin and you shiver.

Is there an answer? An answer to the question that you haven’t even asked? It’s there, the answer, deeper still. The answer waits. It will come up suddenly out the dark waters and pull you down slowly, swallowing all that you are.

Deeper, deeper, the waters grow colder, darker, and you feel the pressure building. The seaweed, unseen, brushes against your arms and legs as you descend, in the belly of the whale.

Is it time to talk? Is it time to listen to me yet Jonah? Jonah? JONAH! Yes its me, you knew it was going to be me. It had to be me, and it took this didn’t it? There was no way that you would come, and I couldn’t bring you anywhere else. Anywhere else you would have found some way to slip away. Instead I’ve made everything else slip away. Yes I have you, and I have you where I want you, and now you will listen, listen because you have to, because there is nothing else for you to cling to except for my word, the sound of my voice pressing in on your ears, my voice, the voice that makes mountains crumble, waters rumble, and winds roar across the desert places. All the stars I hold in my hands, and hidden amongst them is a stone, a white stone with your name, the only name you ever had, the name I gave you in the beginning that you have always known, but have not heard, the name that you will have at the end, and it will be yours because I, and only I have given it to you. You have not escaped me. How could you? Where could you run to? For how long does a man have to run? A year? 10 years? 50? Even if you had 500 where could you run? So close your eyes, rest, and listen to what I have to tell you. Yes that’s right, You know that we need to talk about it. Afraid you say? Afraid to talk about it? Don’t you trust me even with that? Denial? Yes I know. Betrayal? Yes that too. I know you are angry, I know that you are tired. I know what you want, I’ve always known what you wanted, but the world is bigger than one man. Yes, I see why you are angry, but it’s me that you are talking to, Me, so don’t be angry. I’ve heard every word you’ve ever spoken, and every word that you have yet to speak. Do not believe that you understand all things, do not claim to be righteous when not one is righteous, not one. You have your plans in your heart, but it is I who directs your steps. Do you not know even that? I have even been there and now I have the keys not him. All the locks have been opened. What’s that? Some things are not for you to know, and even the apple could not tell you that. Yes, everyone will be alone, they will have to cross alone one by one just as they came. Yes, go to sleep now, rest, do not be alarmed, you will awaken, surrounded by the light of day, laying on the warm blonde sands, listening to the sound of waves lapping on the shore. Remember this day, and you will do alright. Remember it and do not ever forget.

The Last Path

Heavy Steps across the rainy night. There are some things you can't fight, some fights you can't win, some weights you can't bear.

You are floating far away, in some darkness seeking light, wondering what it was you were trying to fight.

Light.

Strive for the light, at all costs strive for the light.

Though your heart falters, though your flesh fails, though your bones splinter, go onward into the night. It must eventually become day. It must at some point turn into afternoon, and echo with the voices of children as they play their games.

Theirs is the peace. Theirs is the place we long to return to.

To the sunny afternoon and the breezes, that lolling through the tall pines lay at last upon your old and weary face.

Grace will take us to that land, to the afternoon of our youth when all that we saw rose up and out into the vastness of the Infinity that we were a part of.

Grace

The warmth in the thunderstorms of night

In the end it is the only path that is left to a man.

It is the path that we were meant to find.

It is the path we were born to follow.

One foot

and then the next

on and on

building like the start of a thunderstorm.

We will awake one by one and rise into a newness of being.

There is the promise, the hope, and though seemly silent, it sings to the believers, to the seers, to the fools, to those that have given up on every other way.

What is left after all?

Can you carry one photo?

One coin?

One flower?

One petal?

All that you take is all that you are, and ever were.

When did you lift your hand in aid?

When did you answer another's pleading?

Come soul, come oh weary one.

Awake!

Take heed, hold up your head, lift your feet, raise your arms.

Holy, Holy, Holy

Grace

The sound of one man's bare feet padding softly on the warm desert sands.

Why do you search this tomb? He is not there!

He has risen.