tonight was great.
awana.
hanging out with andre', sean o., donovan.
we had a good conversation about prayer. is gods hand in every pool? my conclusion is NO. he lets us live and lets glasses break and gardens grow. he lets them be and break and flourish, when i say "lets" i mean leaves them to their course.

anyway the following stuff is all random journal stuff, some prayer some just conversations with moi in my head. also a few beginnings and hints at poetry.

March 18-
My lack of passion
What is it? Its what drives us forward, the hidden voice calling us to what we love. In this moment I am far, far from the voice and that which I love.

All the while You held my exit.

Many of my recent entries have been pleadings to walk again, but it seems I loved to crawl. So I say, just as I’ve said before “this is the last. My pathetic stagnancy will end. Yield itself to you and forever we will walk, you will lead.” Now I beg! Eloí, you are my awareness. Apart from you I am without sight and sound. Taste and touch. Casting these weights, I ask You to carry this, carry me.

March 20-
“Cursed is any man hung from a tree.”
The caster of such could only be me.
Led to the slaughter this sheep to be sheared,
The tips of our fingers and minds to be feared.

Wooden expressions we give to the poor,
Sullen complexion we feast and afford.

That same look I give the broken and unrighteous man, I gave then. He who bore my weight and suffered much affliction was met with those same eyes.

March 21-
Stripes! Those Terrible Stripes!
A painting bore in flesh of His chest
This could be a masterpiece, validation of artistry!
Whipping the brush, whipping marks with perfect intrusion.
Smitten canvas of red on white.
“…He has put Him to grief”