The Road - Wandering Aloud

Greetings Dear Reader,

Thick as a Brick has been playing through my head all night.  If you follow the link and get stuck there please come back in 44 minutes.  Real battle is always fought in the heart and the mind.  It is won or lost there as well. 

I am trying to get at the root of the things that hinder me from being all that I am capable of being.  There are changes and healing and restorations that need to exist.  I can do what I am supposed to do but I cannot change anyone else. In trying to undo some locks I have had a couple of beam and speck moments that will lead to better choices on my part.

I realize that this all may sound disjointed Dear Reader but the flotsam and jetsam of my mind is not too organized.  My first duty is to Christ.  In doing that duty I must unlock the prisons of the past in order to attempt to set up good for the future.  The oldest of the family must move with authority but at what cost to the things he has sequestered away because they hurt so much. 

The war is to use the memories for good without embracing the anger and bitterness that cling to them like this Georgia humidity.  “The innocent young master, thoughts moving ever faster, has formed a plan to change the man he sees.”  Right on the heels of this thought is the fact that I am not alone in the process; “Constant creation, that’s what I am, as you are making me into your man.” 

But I also wonder how long the sins of my forebears will haunt the lives of my children and possibly my grandchildren.  I wander aloud seeking a way to undo these too often resonant tethers to a poison past.  I am less entrapped in the mire than my parents and it is obvious I have done better by my children.  I have, however,  not done as well as I could and some of that needs mending. 

Tomorrow I wander north to the place where my great failure lives.  The place is beautiful as it rest between the Misty Mountains and the Lonely Mountain.  How much of the loss can I lay to rest there?  Perhaps there is some attornment I can achieve.  Perhaps I can couple the forgiveness I already have from God with some human semblance of the same.   Perhaps not.  But it is only the asking that makes us what we are…

Wond’ring Again – Jethro Tull

There's the stillness of death on a deathly unliving sea,

And the motor car magical world long since ceased to be,

When the Eve-bitten apple returned to destroy the tree.

Incestuous ancestry's charabanc ride,

Spawning new millions throws the world on its side.

Supporting their far-flung illusion, the national curse,

And those with no sandwiches please get off the bus.

The excrement bubbles,

The century's slime decays

And the brainwashing government lackeys

Would have us say

It’s under control and we'll soon be on our way

To a grand year for babies and quiz panel games

Of the hot hungry millions you'll be sure to remain.

The natural resources are dwindling and no one grows old,

And those with no homes to go to, please dig yourself holes.

We wandered through quiet lands, felt the first breath of snow.

Searched for the last pigeon, slate grey I've been told.

Stumbled on a daffodil which she crushed in the rush, heard it sigh,

And left it to die.

At once felt remorse and were touched by the loss of our own,

Held its poor broken head in her hands,

Dropped soft tears in the snow,

And it's only the taking that makes you what you are.

Wond'ring aloud will a son one day be born

To share in our infancy

In the child's path we've worn.

In the aging seclusion of this earth that our birth did surprise

We’ll open his eyes.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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