Infested

So you say it.
And it feels good.  It feels really good.

Double-edged words.
They’ve been upset from their condensing in your dark hallways
and now they stream into your mind, dive-bombing its walls, feeling out for
a release, a weakness.
Your tongue budges, once, and their ears prick to it on the instant.
Their attention is locked. 
They are pouring in.

So you say it.
And you probably mean it.
But right then, an inch more of you goes dead inside;
right there, an inch more of you slinks back to the dank, familiar hallways echoing,
‘slave.’

The thoughts exist, they grew up with you,
but now all they are are dull prophecies from an ancient rule.
They can be denied.
 Because under your new Mastership, there is strength to do all things.
There is power greater than yourself.

It’s when you start retracing your steps,
running your hands through the pages of your old haunts,
dwelling on the old master’s voice,
dwelling on your voice,
that you are left tempted.
Vulnerable.

But always with a choice. 

It’s when you are on your own, though,
doing things your way,
when it’s your life you’re living
that you back into the shade of your familiar safeholds,
your old home, your ruinous kingdom.
And it becomes impossible for you to deny these.  It always has been.
So many things start to go cold inside you.
The rebelling outcry within is so natural,
you don’t even notice the numbing.

Every time you fulfill those thoughts, by obeying their urge,
the old, familiar mastership is allowed to loom that much more over you,
and slide his claws that much further around your throat.

But it’s all a choice.
Every time you deny fulfilling those thoughts, boom,
self-control gets a foothold in you, gets history with you,
and the deadness encroaching the mind that thought those thoughts-
softens.
Withers.
Turns to sand.

There are new prophecies over you,
of freedom, and re-creation. 
It’s these, that, when they are denied, thwart life.
It’s not like your new Mastership is weak, or even precarious.
The new life is stronger, so much stronger.
But sin makes me immune to it.
So be careful who you choose.
Think about how much you choose Him by.

There are structures that stand like chains inside. 
They are abandoned, but they are ever-present.
The closer we walk to them, the more they tower.
Evil things crawl and swarm from their chasms.
God can collapse these.
When?

When I finally choose that I value obeying Him
more than fulfilling my sin.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect,
but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. 
Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it.  But one thing I do:
Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead,
I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me
heavenward in Christ Jesus . . . our citizenship is in heaven. 
And we eagerly await a Saviour from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who,
by the power that enables Him to bring everything under His control,
will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like His glorious body."
Philippians 3

what you didn't remember

 Silver thoughts roll to the ground

And shatter, each with muted sound,

Beyond your reach but in your eyes

They fall, they flutter, laugh and fly.

Soft remembrance, new creation,

The second look at your surroundings

Captured your wild heart by laughter

And by solemn promises.

Cup a draught of starlit sky,

Hold it tight, fling it high,

Travel with it through the forests

                                                              To the higher mountain air.

Long have you been here;

Long will you stay-

The most strange, glowing thing

Is to fall in love late.

This hour that is fading

Has triggered your soul

Golden light streams through windows

You are lost and unwhole

This heart sways divided

This love is a war

Heal what lies dying

Breathe into the coals. 

Your heart feels no shifting

Your heart lost wise fear

Your heart is a castle

You are frozen years

How is stone melting

How can death fear?

The castle is pulsing

With flesh and with ears

That hear sharp words cutting

But lose sharper thorns

Of floating and drifting-

To promises, born.

Your faithfulness stuns me

I can't understand

How you choose the faithless

With love that demands

Dead things to falter

And strong things to crack

Cold blood to tremble

And black hearts to ask

Return with your love, God

Return with your words

You make me feel shifting

This heart shakes in fear

                                                              The dead leaves are stirring
                                                              A wind gives them breath,

Their blood is returning

Their fists are unclenched

                                                            The stone heart weighs nothing,

This blackness feels light-

The light makes strong promise,

And measures the night. 

  

You wake up in freedom,

Crowning and green;

Through brume dawn is streaming-

This God wants to heal.

You'll hunt out His freedom

You'll sing for His voice

You know His strong drawing

He's given Himself

Long may you hunger,

Long may you thirst,

The most heart-morphing truth

Is to have been loved first. 

great big things from a great big God

Dawn drove out the lurking mists
And dispersed them from the crags;
But they uncoiled with snarling lips
And promises of worse displays-
To return in greater number and confound your sailing ships. 

Fog and murk, breath and vapor-
Dark inhabitants of cliff-
Still obeyed the voice of sunrise
And backed down the cracks of earth,
Falling through the floor to dimmer
Chasms where they may regather and make ready haunting weather.

But thaw, unravel, purr and sway;
Safari dazzles darker worlds away.

Now unfurl your bright sails blithely
And you, too, spirit away.

  Trek and journey, awe and wonder,
Sludge through marsh; and merge together
Imagination's revelry
With explorer's mystery.

 Drift through watery fingertips,
The undisturbed glassy globes
Of diamond dew bedecking unbent blades.

Take it in with silent breath,
Then breathe out your atoned theft
Of untrod valleys, untouched trees,
The rush of wind that otherwise
Had been estranged from such community.

There are no wrong directions with discovery as the end,
And discovery laughs and hides throughout the brink of nomad roads.

With your sure footfalls moths glide upwards,
Spiraling off to safer lairs; flights altered drowsy by the distanced tide
Of sunlight's gaze now shifting sideways,
Slanting through each face of ivy, slinking down each canopy,
 Blinking, arcing, whispering, calling-
Urging you to exhale doubt unto the glowing hour. 

Vines which long have hung suspended masquerade amongst the hum as
Chandeliers, who, unbefriended, have been content to live suspended in placid soliloquy. 

  Doting wind picks up your hair,
Half lifts it, and holds it there
In sighing levitation.

A gleam plays off the wall of woods
From dragon's eye; and with that stumbling revelation
Comes the wayward recollection of the words
You regret to having let sprite away so lightly.
The blinding cloud sinks over you
Of dragon's breath, the mist proved true;
It settles thick till you're unglued
From all but cold reality seeping deeply to your bones
That all these leaves just left you for the ground. 

I have not words with wing enough to carry them to heaven,
But I have reasons without want to swell with hope a prayer up
That God Himself descends and lifts our thoughts and selves to sanctuary.

Let love grow bold, let hope sing clear
And dare to ask that Holiness draw near;
As if they've known the golden hush before  
And now would haply meet again,
 Just to gaze upon the solid assurance of His fixed resplendence,
And such it is that smooths out your stormy fears to tranquil togetherness.