"FREE AT LAST!"

O, the walls that we build; to keep out the perceived evil that threatens us with paper dragons and fanciful villains. Secure, we set inside our strong fortifications, impenetrable from without and indestructible from within. Sterilized in our own filth the iron vines of pride and self-love sprawl over us and the siege begins, there tethered to the ground, a captive within our own fortress and a slave to the tyrant we trained, who now at will opens the barred gates for demons, ten times more vile than he, to enter. Writhing in torment and fear we see the true fire breathing dragons and taste the bitter reality of evil. When dawns on our mind the reality that the only safety, was not a wall to shut out the ones around us, but an invite to bring in and care for them. But slaves we have become, we have shut out the ones who could have fought for us- what hope is left for such a one? Breath, breath but the faintest petition for help, cry out for saving and give full and free permission for the castle of your own making to be torn down by the Mighty One. He will speed to the fray and drive off the demons, vanquish the dragons and slash through the vines that hold you bound, He will carry you to safety and restore your soul, He will never leave you! You can be free at last!

Not the story that could have been

Footprints, a nostalgic poem of the 20th century. My story takes a slightly more horrific turn or perhaps it is the sequel to Footprints In The Sand.

As darkness set its fearful blanket of cold night round me, memories of fonder days flickered in my mined like a light bulb at the end of it’s life. Only to be half the man I was away back in my youth, that would make me twice the man of now. I once had felt pain, I once had felt joy, I once had loved. But now an aching hole from my head to my tow, frightful, restless, hopeless. For now I only wished I could feel, at the least feel shame and at best feel pain, for to feel something at all would be a gift but to feel joy, that was never again to be. Once on a distant shore I had seen the footprints and I’d even been carried but now my shore had no sand, only jagged, sharp, and deadly rocks pocked at my near lifeless corpse. High and lifted up above the awful sight was a structure, strong and sound, never once it’s light did go out always bright it shown about. But for me no hope said light did bring.

They say hope springs eternal and so it was with me, from the light of that tower I could see the breakers beyond the reef, fierce and powerful, once I had feared lest I ever should be swept out and dashed to nothing. Now that was my hope, dashed to pieces to end the most miserable existence of a failed life. The raging sea was not my friend for it appeared to deny my last request, instead it continued to pound me against the rocks like I was it’s toy. At first I had tried to climb up the rocks but always swept back by the cat like sea, plying with its victim. Now the waters were calm enough for one to scramble to higher ground but that time for me had passed I simply closed my eyes and cried, my soul was dead and only a matter of time and my body would follow. The encouragement of friends fell lifeless in the waters beside me and sank out of sight.

I can not certify of the next event, whether it was a dream or in the flesh reality, another soul whom I knew stood on the rocks, why, I did not care to ask, perhaps for me they had come or perhaps they too were being dashed about by the waves, but in my selfish pride I viewed them as an object like the rocks, or the waves, or worse yet like the wind. Wishing to justify myself and also wishing to do one thing right before I could do nothing more I smiled at them and collected a bouquet of the best seaweed tangled about my body, with my half lifeless hand I thrust it at them, awaiting a reply that at least would give me my first and at best perhaps my second wish of feeling.

It was now only a little while and the tide would pull me out to the breakers beyond the reef and they would take me beyond the sands of time.

But what was that, my wish had been denied? A smile of joy over the simple gift, words of gratitude and delight! What had I though would happen? I guess the water had brainwashed my mind with a layer of silt and refuse. There is only one word for what happened next- miracle. In an instant my heart was broken, I saw I was becoming one with the waves and would soon be dashing helpless victims against the jagged rocks too, in a sadistic self-pity. But not what I would have become is my story, but instead what I did become is my story- for my heart was broken, broken in a good way! For, for the first time in a long time I felt, I felt joy, now I felt love too yes love! So they laugh and say what a seaweed of a story, no it’s not about seaweed, its about the Man, the Man who has the prints, the prints in His hands and the prints in His feet, the Man who came because of love! Now the breakers roar and the sea hisses out a death chant but I don’t care, for the waters can not drowned what He gave me! For now the wind sings a song of peace in the storm, the darkness only a cloth covering to be taken away and revile the Masters beautiful painting! My tears still flow but they are tears of gratitude, for what He did I could never have done!  My body is still weak and sore from that frightful day but my heart, my heart is happy! Now I stand at the top of the cliffs next to the Lighthouse that overlooks the sea, for two things I do this, One: to remember that it was all Him who brought me back from the dead. Two: to look for someone to take a seaweed bouquet from and in return give a smile and thank you, for to me it would be a honor to be a friend of such an one, for such an one was I. This I can promise them, Miracles Do Live!  Benjamin Waymire 3/3/19

Moon Dust...

The old fire breathing box of iron, its warmth, ah how fondly I recall; it, the chilling air dispelled, and mortals keep time with the dancing of the flames. How would be so nice to again snuggle in by said fire, but this boy, his own roads has wandered. The teasing cold, the cloudy night, all a fitting symphony to my life. Log and lump, treasure or trash all consumed and reduced to ash...

...that dust, no human covets, for all it covers in gray; my history, it seemed to line.

In the cool of the night, a stone I flicked down the road I trod, for after all, all I could see! The curtain's of the sky had parted you see, and in all her beauty their she be, the Moon, fair at last! In wildly smooth contemplation I gazed at her face, glowing so brightly, yet so softly too. Heaven and Earth came close and I felt as though I could touch the Moon's smile! But alas, 'twas just an old dust heap, pummeled by years stones from outer space, and all dusty left, the ash heap of the galaxy must she be...

...but I looked again, she was so perfect, every ray of light she chanced to catch to mortals she sends, her own light she has none, but to light our night 'twas she formed. Her moon dust a powerful reflection of love!

Moon Dust! My wildly smooth contemplation changed to animated joy, for the Moon and I, the same did share, dust and darkness everywhere!But catching every ray, I too moon dust can be, to give to fellow mortals the light from the Son! Moon dust, moon dust... ...just let me be moon dust!

The End.