sun​-​dry

from by grafted, i am.

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Blood has the right away when the skin splits. It's common to cringe, common to let it drip, and huff and puff all the way, staining everything around you without addressing the remedy. Let us be uncommon Lord. A burning nerve guts a good endorphin and spoils all things splendid. A frantic crooked frame of mind aint modest with its splinters. Cinder blocks make bad hats but when you're blind and on steroids you tend to forget that. You tend to lose yourself picking fights with every rustling leaf. But look- There's seven ducklings in a straight line. They got it figured out. Follow the leader now. Shall I conform to this call to peace and give it to God to sun-dry my beast flesh? I'd be a fool to refuse this still-water invitation. Stick em up high. Put your hands in the air where the Gift Giver can see em and peace will be upon you. The only cure for a spiritual structure fire is heavenly rain. The clouds are always full, always ready to buckle and give out under the weight of a love so great. This love aint precious, 'cause it's limited like rationed gasoline in 1943, or rare like a house in Detroit that aint boarded up. On the contraire it's precious 'cause it's everywhere at all times. You ask for a sign? Inhale, exhale in January. Don't it feel good, like somebody had you in mind since the beginning of time? Tell me has the sun even once failed to rise and shine on you? Is dawn not inviting and full of hope for one more discovery, one that won't die? When heart-break breaks the levy our bodies involuntarily respond with tears, releasing a chemical that promotes well being. Phenomenon's such as this show us the true nature of our Creator- the complete expression of love. Those who have ears, hear this- "No one has ever seen God but if we love one another God lives in us and His love is made complete in us." 1 John 4:12

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from grafted, i am., released February 2, 2015

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grafted, i am. Oneonta, New York

four friends, one hope.

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