Dear Pen and Paper

It feels like eons since the last that you and I shared stories about our imaginings, and them that have made us kings.   The last that I relished your presence was hours before this very moment, but the last confiding encounter has been found wanted as my fingers clinch to the ebb of impulses of rushing streams from my hand to my mind.

The seductive forces spawned by your combination, at times, bring tears to my eyes or better yet, a glimmer in my soft grin in a flitting scan of your message path today.  The narrow and sometimes wide spread lines paralleled, you commanded for direction and composition, brave and noble paper, pay good and accepted ransom, by the blue, black and occasional red pool of glazed material ejected by the sprout of the mighty funnel, the pen.  It is called this by many but clutched in the hands of some, it possesses far beyond the value and weight of a king’s command, a far valued material fashioned in flames. It is mightier than the sword and it is seen in the articulation of speech and the construction in a well written script.

I have seen how brave you have made speakers, heads of places and even how Presidents are in delivery.  How tall they stand behind a podium or alter, and there on its setting you rest silently charged and reflecting what words their lips will discharge from you what was once oblivious in their seeking minds.  A catalyst that catapults a nation’s address is what you are and never, I believe, do you Pen and Paper want anything in acknowledgment, if luck has it you are recycled into your aberration.

There is a great deal that authors, poets and scribes owe you, or rather, the readers of the text, rich in its virtue, that you pen and paper have culminated over years in these writers minds.  A generation has been altered just by the very voice that you gave the speakers that quote your very protrusion in papers and pages in books dear pen.  This is only seen in the history books that publications have found so dear and so profound to let Today know about.

There are arts that are more inclined to sound too, but have paid reference to your subconscious being in being an art in your own existence.  The fusion of thought and abled limbs, tarsals and phalanges have allowed the quill and the parker to impregnate the harvested and reformed tree, be paper, to give virtue to those that sourced it out in search of expression.  Body soul and mind have been made whole in your greatest publication, the Bible and yet still your work is still found needed in the technological age we are found in.

Oh dear Pen and Paper, am I that privileged that I may set my visions on your never ending path, a fortress to them that cannot find any virtue in beings and a documenting platform?  Whatever it is that you do, I pray that the God of the Heavens sees me worthy to be a source of your manifestation.

Cradle my thoughts

Dear God, cradle the thoughts that I am having on this night. My questions are many, even the answers to them that came initially are questions themselves, my solutions are riddles that lead me into an even greater sense of soliloquy.

A gentle word, right now, in the murmur of gentle breeze would do my hearts rest justice, because in it, would be the silent calm that my mind needs. I am far from that right now. My silent prayer comes with raised hands but I would rather have my feed of the ground for the supernatural power of hovering over this hard time that wants my progress weary of success. Cradle my thoughts so I can dream so that this body that you use for your powers display to get rest. That is what you made night for, because if it was, the sun would never show submission to the darkness that causes confusion. I implore your mercy to just look my direction to remind me now more than ever, that you are alive in me and I in this world for you, cradle my thoughts that I may sleep.

In this very mind, God, you and I toil with my ambitions, looking for means that will exemplify growth and a destination set.  Our conversations are persistent prayers that inspire even the smallest of molecules that construct the very fibre of my being. To live and live more is what the subconscious pleads and gently caresses my conscious self with, but that is not an indirect means to keep me awake or in constant torment of what has not come to pass, what success has not come, Father please, cradle my thoughts that I may comfort those who's day like this is still to come. 

Dear God, the Vision you've set can only be altered by faith and belief, I do that with gentle vigour in proof of my fighting heat. Cradle these thoughts for I am yours to use.

The Affection We Share

It is amazing how you will just lie on my shoulder and speak a world of difference to how I am feeling at that time.  You shed a silent tear and I feel it fall on the path that my soul is walking on, it pauses for a brief moment to evaluate privilege, and in your eyes it is all written.

I get a call from you and instantly, a hologram vision appears and am at a face to face conversation with you, the burden of feeling all forlorn is relinquished in having you in my imaginative power to hold you near.   A greater force is emphasized when I see your eyes in the heavens in the bright shining star sun that add warmth to my knowledge that a being like you did not just fall out of the sky.  You were carved with the greatest of ease because passion is exemplified in your proud walk, knowing you belong to God and no other man, but you give your emotion to me and I too, to you because we share this force that has been bestowed in the name of relation.  I feel that more is said in your silence than I hear in your voice because the coordination of your breath in sighs to your look staring into my hopeful being lets me know that there is more to live for than this day, which in all probability could be my last.

I know that I have a story to tell and in that I feel that you hold the pen that my story is to be written by.  I think of what fragrance the past gives to the present in lessons and scares that are somewhat visible to the public’s eye but in time you have known as though you were there when experience paid a visit to my present state and ran its course in full at the time.  You try to find the words that will possibly speak into the future that we all possess in our imaginations and hopes, in our ambitions which are perceived to be life giving when in actuality it is in this very moment, with you, that it may be possibly be defined.  We two, gathered in the same hope wield a greater power than what inheritance can give to a sole being on this earth. We, gathered in His name, releases the power that broke and defined the difference between night and day, the seas from land and created the very life that we have in Adam.

We tend to forget in our day to day living, that we foster the greatest emotion, or better yet, the greatest source all humanity knows, LOVE.  We see it in a simple action or a more articulate phrasing of words, a piece of artistry or a  simple instrument such as a guitar, stringed with different tunes such as life but working together it makes a harmonious tune we all innately move to.   My expression is futile to what a lifetime is, but I can say I stand in full measure of it when in your hands fine tune the frequency of my heart beat, draw the fine line between liberation and death, to eternity and the silent naught of darkness.

The only conclusion I have for you being this great a part in my life is that we were made of the same hand, so for us being together right now is us just coming home. We share the greatest affection, our creation.

Heart Beat

I ask of you, look after my heart, please kind being.  I am only starting to get to know about its capability, that I am in awe if its’ potential and its great power to hold the capability of offering an eternity.  I will say again, please look after my heart, and please kind being take heed of what task is at hand.

I see my first definition of virtue being defined in my discovery of this chest piece that keeps my organs at bay.  This instrument that keeps a pound in its own defined frequency carries the power that every king commends- valor, authority and an ever growing wisdom- sees me humbled in the grace that I am kept alive by something that is but a fraction of my imagination.  I think that wits and bravery fall short of capability in light and comparison of what this fragile, unique instrument can do and what it is already doing.  My ability to grasp that inspiration comes in all forms comes from you, who I see, as more than just a part of every beings existence, more than just a piece of anatomy, more than just a formula found to our ability to think and act to what our surroundings expect us to be.

The matter grey that is said to be the field where we consider and decide what is and what is not, is set to contrast what we know feel in this fragment that makes us what we are.  It is constant, repetitive in its tone, sonorous when we zone out into that space we consider not reflective to our natural being that is evident in our expression.  We feel a touch of heaven in that escape that liberates us from the conscious for just a brief moment.   The very thread of my knowledge transcends from the root of what has happened and what still transpires in my heart.  Beat.  Increase momentum, stretch my sternum and shatter the records set in the breach in the space and time continuum.  Beat faster.  A clash of stimulations allows confusion to arise, causing an unfamiliar source of infliction to rest in this chamber of council that resides in all of us in one form, defined as many, it can only be as known as the propeller, the sole proprietor of breath in our lungs.   I have paid reference in many situations by my source, Who resides within my known source, to be, my heart, and to hold the affirmation to my decisive power, whose will can go far beyond what it has already experienced.  What we all implore is that fact that gender culture and creed has nothing to do with its capabilities, if anything it carries the potential to fully enhance its strength to what we have boiled it down to, CHARACTER.

In our nature, it is possible to weave destruction in an untamed tongue, which by scripture is the overflow of the heart.  In the same light we are able to carve models and heroes by an equal overflow. .  I will say again, please look after my heart, and please kind being take heed of what task is at hand. 

Child Like

My greatest expression is crying. My tears are a sign of my hurt, they are a sign of compassion and they are too a sign of my happiness, my Joy. If your senses are sharp, you will realise all these facets before my words are formulated. I am a child.

I look around and it seems as though everything is seen for the very first time. My mothers beautiful smile, the sky and how it can have beautiful pictures and how no one really knows the painter yet we are connected with Him. If my mind is worthy of thinking, I think that for how tender my curiosity is, every sentence begins with Lord and my final word in conclusion is Amen. Yes, when I look around I am seeing the assembly line of Gods manufacturing line, how you are a model that came before me and how both of us are predestined to a task. You know what yours is or what it should be because you are at least attuned to what expression is and I, once again say, all I have is a loud cry and a pure look into your eyes... I only wish you could feel what I feel when I am fed.

There are times my hair is knotted with what you think is pretty, mother, while I experience my first endeavour of  bondage. I free myself in an irritable spirit, dressed in hugging cloths which are a waste of money I believe. Give me two weeks and I'll be bigger,["sigh"] I could be bare for all I care because before my dispatch, Gabriel told me I am worth much more than how I look and by His mighty hand I have effected change by being in my mothers womb. I know more than you do because wisdom is raw in my being but God will not let you see it because I need nurturing to help diversity into understanding that there is one source, the very one that has allowed you the will to have freedom and liberation in insight...

I m a child, and all I have to my life is instinct.

Evergreen

There are moments in history that have seen the most rich soil, the deepest of valleys and the most storing wells dried up at an unexpected hour.  We ask ourselves when this has happened, outside of biology, how is it that some “trees” remain or rather how do some people retain their formidability in the harshest of times.

This part of me spawns from a surface that is not defined as fertile or dry; it spawns from one that radiates what all of earth’s raw materials have been formulated from. This is that one core strand that our very DNA as humans was created in Adam then extracted as though branch broken to make another of his form we know as Eve. This part of me is carved with the tiniest of effort as though it were a tree listening to potter grains of sand. Perfectly humbled, no matter how tall it stands it still stays where it were groomed and that is why as humans we innately come back to God.  There are some factors that come about that see this tree stripped of its Glory, by seasons and man, it may be cut to make a platform for all these words expressed in paper or to fuel a furnace from winters harsh heart or just for the sake of building something.  I cannot forget that this comes from somewhere, it has a root, thus grows once again.

What is cause if a vision had never been created?  In the way that I see it, for ones cause to be known a vision has to exist and the fundamentals to having a vision are to have a starting point, a destination and a reflection and a strong realization that there is always movement and it isn’t always in the forward direction.  There is a concept that has eluded almost all of us that I would like to share; it is called the “Ever Concept.”  What this concept simply promotes is a perpetuated formula or result in all that we do or rather feel.  An example I can pull up is your name, you were there but had no choice in what it would have been and now each of us where it as though we were the fore fathers that initiated the branding of our faces. As long as you live and long after you’re gone it is there, in the words “he will be remembered forEVER. Take another word for instance, nEVER, still says that it is perpetuated, it will not come to pass, whatEVER it is.  What has brought me to my knees in prayer and humility is EVERgreen.

The power I have seen in just the simple tree that stays like that throughout the year, has made me think of all that we have been promised by God or by whatever we believe in.  The fact of the matter is that there is a source, for EVERyone.  I might find mine in the scriptures that were written anciently, some might find it in the Universe, it is EVERywhere, and it sure is for everyone.  In some strange way I found nature sending a plea for me to look at things in this way: stay in your EVER moment, prolong happiness, prolong the good that is left in others by your presence.

We all possess a power that can part seas, that power is thought and often it is heard in speech.  We possess an even greater power and harness its depth without the knowledge of us doing so, seeing and believing, in the human eye and now in faith.  Let your nature in positivity remain EVERGREEN.

Queens

When I claimed my throne in time, I did not know that it came with the privilege of having a gift that is beyond understanding…. Which you are, my queen… My existence just as pure as it is, has said what a glory it is to have you let alone what Glory it is for me to be given to the maker, who has made you for me.

The veins that have stringed out the very voice of your words on paper are the very source that have inked the power that will free the void of words expressed in ecstasy to you from my very lips, dear Queen, my humility is brought about by your being in this world that I see not worthy of you walking it.  Scripture has spoken of great men but I feel that it has left me out for how you have made me feel and be for and about this world.  My Queen, what you feel is at the very essence of the God essence that was given to all man but has been lost by humanity, that has found me looking as just another man, but dear queen, I beg you, take another look…  My Queen, I feel that the deepest of yearnings has not been expressed if it be not expressed for the kingdom of heaven unless it be of your name and all that you are. See… My Queen, you have made me know that heaven exists because of who and what you are on this earth.  An Abyss had not been expressed until a void was felt and that is when a world without your existence was thought of, so dear Queen know that when I speak of a hollow it is not a passing shadow of a man living without in his world but it is of a King’s stature without a Queen.

If you would realize that the choices I make in my present have you at the forefront, at the core of every possible venture. I realize too that the reason the independent woman movement was formed was because of your innate sense of submission misused, taken advantage of and not given the gratitude that humility is preserved by your hands that serve me food night after night. Oh my noble Queen, I see my dreams drawn by the very fiber of your prayers, the mechanisms of support are created just by your very belief even in the things that I cannot see for my own life but you, through the covenant we are and have committed to God, know and stay steadfast in... These are what I know ambition to be and as futile as words are to miracles I am to this world without the blessing that you are. Now Queen, I want you to understand that for a structure to stand tall or to just stand for that matter, it needs a foundation which is God, a master planner who are the angels that watch our day to day and a precision builder which is what you are. Standing firm, my household is furnished with spiritual gifts and that is why the rock on your finger is the vessel to your heart, which anatomy could not find before I found you or rather before we stood on Gods palm as just a thought.

When words have shied away from utterance you know to look to my expression to find the meaning of my haphazard nature that looms upon my every action when you are around. The pain that you feel in your monthly cycle is what should let you know that you were made better than me and yet still you embrace the power God exempts to make me king.  From that pain it is epitomized how much work is done to mould the mirror that you Queens reflect in mere men, that you Queens bare into Glory. You were known in Jeremiah, before you were formulated in your mother’s womb and I stand now, small as your belly button but within you to say that life cannot be created without you.

You were my friend before you are my love, my mother before my sister, earths niece before you became my daughter for me to take care of.  My queen, you knew knowledge’s true form before i discovered what wisdom can be bestowed by the heavens to us whom the virtue of prosperity is privileged, we are made kings before we are made legends.  If I have never told you that I love you forget my words and have my heart because my Queen, I am alive because of God and you, your king… dunn