Based on a conversation I had when I was in Denver, Colorado in August of 2007. Reflecting on hearing God.
I used to write it clear
For all the world to hear,
Night was like an endless
Shadow, the world a darkened
Meadow to walk in, steady and
Faithful was me, steady and able,
Willing was I, a learner’s permit
I carried, you are my graduation,
My attenuation carried my situation,
More of His voice, more of His words
To pierce inside of me, the rooftops
Cried out to me, city of thin air, city
I could hear, Denver diner to be clear,
I want to hear, I want to fear, I want
To be near to Him, that fire within, that
Flame again, on the rooftop we talked,
The conflagration, the situation, endless
Nights fighting the break of dawn, fighting
The yawn, killing a weak flesh, weekdays
With Him, weekends within, the end to come
And the world to grow numb, I write it clear
Now, all is not clearly, I am growing elderly,
Grays to soon come, let me not grow cold
As I get old—for I burn to hear—His voice
Speaks, His voice seeks, His voice reaches
In the thinnest air, in the lowest valley,
On the highest point of the mountains,
The interstate, the time to not hesitate,
Live in on the freeway, your daily life,
Your mundane operation—but can I
Hear Him, hear Him clearly
Tag: God’s voice
The Shout
The shout
The shout has been faded
Life now jaded,
Struggle to breathe
Struggle to succeed
Your voice my choice
Let me choose to hear
Choose to no fear, in
My veins give me new
Terrain to set foot on
To trample upon the
One that knocks the
Shout out of me,
Let love be turned up
In these ears of mine
Give me now new time
For you and I
The Influence
Now I am still packing them away, the things that don’t go away
The things called alone, that stay at home, red eyes always, a new surprise
A new hair color on you, new highlights, new nights, new fights to get it
Going now, running has been in my mind for much to long, what now could
Go wrong? Now I speak as one who is weak and empty, broken and not whole
Now—summer is fading, an age six racer soon becoming, a backseat chaser,
And like explosives in the sky I am still asking why—why does change take
So long? Fallen man, cops verse the cape and still a gap of good in me,
Do I cut dies with the ghosts of good things? Do I do all I can do to
Rearrange these dreams of mine? A decade under the influence of the
Hollywood congruence in me, down the boulevard, working real hard,
Always here on the Santa Monica Pier, looking into my own soul, looking
For control but like all dreams that live for it to live on it must die a little
Now—fame and the name it brings calls out to me as I build a house on
That which slips anyways and never stays in me now I grow up somehow
And pack it away real tight, let it keeps me up all night, dreams what are they
Anyway if Christ does not reign over it, if He does not live in it? All that it may
Bring to see something pretty now becomes petty because I rarely do see—8 semesters of this place, and an endless pace on the grey floor now I still ask
The same question with the same invention—weakness and broken keep me
Up wondering how to stay messed up—so I unpack whats been packed away
In me—thoughts that drive me and keep me steady—a lack of purity Lord has
Been sitting in me—all you ask is for me at last to just trust and rest in you—this
Is no more a question then it is an answer of the things that cause disaster—I am
Still under the influence of that which leads me off the narrow road—so keep me
Lord into a place of dying, and a place of relying—on you now—for to be pure
Is to be sure that you are looking with all in you at that which causes you to
Be Holy now—I am here, unpacking it Lord for you, the things that I have to
Ask you
THE RUCKUS JOURNAL 