Molten Fire

Here I speculate, tucked within a snug little coffee shop, surrounded by weather created for the epic.
Dark trees rise tall, silhouetted against an earl-grey sky. Empty branches brave the whisper of winter winds, harkening the arrival of ice and snow.
My heart alights, for in the turning of seasons I see the stunning heart of the Creator.
Does He weep, in agony over those who do not know Him?
Are those birches, stripped bare of life, a depiction of souls hollowed by the harshness of life?
Do those rumbling skies contain the darkening clouds of the human condition?
Are those raw winter winds the ragged voice of truth, attempting to awaken us to reality?
Here amidst the setting of rugged solidity and suffering lies an unfolding landscape of epic passion, suffering and redemption.
Here, amidst this dark sorrow, I see one who’s heart is poured out in suffering as a river of molten fire, sweeping through the hollows of the earth, receiving within His very being every piercing cry and tortured anguish. 

Winsome Wild

I turned, 

and there I saw

a lake shrouded in mystery,

afire in ethereal vapor

filtering through its lattice

rays of gilded gold;

transforming my world into another. 

I listened, 

and there I heard 

the winsome whisper of the deep 

gripping my spirit

quickening my heart

to the sound of indelible silence. 

I watched,

and there amidst vapor and ice

arose visions my heart could no longer quell.

Wings of gold

encircled raiments of silver and white

as her spirit whirled within the whirlwind

edges of fire razed through mist and storm

ablaze in the whisper of the wind.

rhinestone and zircon shimmered

atop timberland beauty

as the divine met mortal,

eternity met present

and time stood still.

We shall dance once more

upon depths unbridled

in the storm and in the vapor

upon the ice and within the fire,

and here
within this winsome wild.