Pulse

red-berries

Crimson, hope has heartbeat yet,

Holds it own as mockers fret;

Lifeblood of this winter hour,

Hope’s perception is its power.

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Inside His Hand

dugout-reflection

When what my eyes can see is not reality,

When beautiful appears as Judas’ kiss;

When up turns out to sink like stones of gravity,

And all is chaos, I remember this –

No matter the confusion all around me,

No matter how things look from where I stand,

The God who reigns above, both pure and Holy,

Holds every circumstance inside His hand.

From Where I Sit

From where I sit, I don’t see much –

I struggle to peer over grounded views.

I’m vertically challenged for sure; as such,

a limited horizon is mine to peruse.

Skewed perception, bias in sense,

falls to my part as I ponder my lot,

erroneous judgements within and without

 force me to fly, to avoid my blind spot.

Instinct in Overdrive

Instinct in overdrive,

claws at the ready;

perception of danger

makes blood pound unsteady.

Attack mode’s not needed

at this point in time –

wisdom will teach you

when heart rate should climb!

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Do you ever fight the wrong battles?