I am blessed that when I come back to my home home home, it smells like a good, healthy marriage (most of the time, with some blemishes)—however, it makes me pine for my day all the more. Lord, help me to appreciate what I have now, to find joy in my better-than-average home life. This isn’t a new thought, or revelation, nor is it humble. I’m just typing it into further existence. I hope each of you can forgive me.

It is fantastic to muse upon this:







Beauty, as we know it…The things that grant us the most transcendence and pure (as we know it) joy and peace and happiness

These things are just an inkling

A taste

A smidgeon

A pale and ghastly portrait in comparison

To that which waits for us in Heaven.

Words cannot articulate, nor should they bring finite baseness to,

the SPLENDOR of Heaven that awaits.

I get giddy just tasting that word on my tongue.

There’s a confusing moment when observing someone who has just parked their car,
And they don’t…
Weren’t they just in such a hurry to get where they were going?
Then I ponder on my own times driving,
And I recognize that moment:
Of hesitancy
Of self-preparation
Of boldness dissipating
That transition, in which the journey becomes the destination,
And the Unknown becomes Real.
And perhaps, we assume that the journey will never end
That we can perpetually fantasize over our very SAFE preconceptions of what will occur at wherever we are scurrying: for errands, parties, visits, trips

Next time that moment spews forth into existence, may you consciously
See it
Politely ignore It
And let it pass you right on by,
So that it might be eaten by the nearest insect.

What are we so afraid of?
Fear. not.
For God, the Lord of Heaven’s armies, is with you.

Fingers tingling, I perceive the cold air

Has accompanied me inside, a clingy child

Drawn to my warmth and fearing the darkness.

Be not afraid, for there is a Light

That spans each and every horizon;

Nothing can escape its embrace.

I may occasionally lose my place and direction,

But never my footing. 

I stand on solid, ancient, Holy ground.

Bare feet cling to comfy dirt

Upon which hundreds have tread before,

And tiny pieces of mortal rock

Sprinkled by prisoners.

Lo and behold, my mind flew away

And settled itself in the lofty Heavens.

I glimpsed a stream of cartoon images

Meant to shield my eyes from True Glory.

Still I could see and sense throes of Angels.

I am flooded


in Peace

A sufficient analysis will show that pleasure, in all cases, is but the contrast of pain.  Positive pleasure is but a mere idea. To be happy at any one point we must have suffered at the same.  Never to suffer would have been never to have been blessed.  But it has been shown that, in the inorganic life, pain cannot be; thus the necessity for the organic.  The pain of the primitive life of Earth, is the sole basis of the bliss of the ultimate life of Heaven…

- excerpt from “Mesmeric Revelation” by Edgar Allen Poe.

Such wisdom! Man oh man.

Canvas  by  andbamnan