The Witchcraft of life

Performing our magic when it seems dull and impossible is a concentration of our wills.

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In quiet “boring” times,

When there seems to be nothing, but nothing, to do

It is then that we can create a masterpiece.

We illuminate the darkness that seems to surround us.

We make it our heaven, and if we lack vision we perish.

So, rise your wand,

Make your life, that which you’ve dreamed of..

Cause it to happen.

You can do it.

Believe, because you must.

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Make it as you envisioned and thought of yourself.

Before the world of voices told you, “no, you’re nothing.”

Don’t believe a word of it, the world’s lies, because it’s not truth.

You are exactly what you imagine.

Nothing greater or less.

It is how you think of yourself.

Your beliefs will lead you.

So, change your beliefs for change.

Cause your world if you so want.

You have the power

God gave it to you.

It is in the tiny mustard seed of faith that will move mountains.

How Many More Breaths

My grandmother
My grandmother

Time

tick-tock; tic- tock; tick, tick, tick.

Time.

WHY?

Nursing homes, memory units, family dispersed.

They ran when my hair turned silver and I smelled of urine.

Oh, this is The United States ~ who else in the world would leave?

What, a silly question,  after all, it was us the free-love generation who started this nonsense.

Really, in truth, we were the “me” generation. Misnamed. The irony makes me laugh.

We called our kids this. They were the product of the all consuming need to be free.

Mom and Dad split, time, after time, after time, all for the image of freedom.

“They’ll get over it.”

Yes, they have and assuredly ~

One plus one equals two. And, two times two equals four.

Physical laws don’t change without the atom bomb.

And, now is waiting.

Waiting, on my clock.

Quietly it tick-tocks; tick-tocks, tick, tick, ticks …

God, how many more breaths must I take?

Leaving Adam

 

Leaving Adam

fullsizeoutput_213b~
Eons advance and passed away.
Thought, theory, speculation and opinions, die.
Glancing through lenses, and squinting, at the sky,
Adam, pointing, at the twinkling specs, named the brilliant ballet.
 ~
 
So, following mankind, up the mountain,
And ascending a rocky path; we embarked.
My feet followed his, upward, to where the sky was arched.
His staff pointed, and the heavens, then filled me, as a refreshing fountain.
 ~
 
An advocate of The Father of Man, I desired what he sought,
Thus’ left the home of my family and upheld his zealous quest
Confidently, I abided and affirmed his every request.
Even, wore his belief’s; did just as he taught.
~
 
One day, dared I asked, Adam, the man of science,
How is Eve today?
And, if looks could kill, then Eve is dead, thus’ left us only, to pray.
Deceased, she is. He answered, with a chill of neglectful defiance.
 ~
 
Man of Science, I spoke so boldly.
At the mountain top; we stand
The stars, you named, and held, in your hand,
However, love you murdered, so coldly.
~
 
This day, I choose the mother
Her love, which first found me
Within the warm and welcoming spirit, in there, dwells she.
 And, today, I accept non-other.
~
 
So, progressing and moving towards her;
 Over, the cliff of doubt, rapidly grabbing her hem, I aim.
Because, after carefully, considering your treacherous, pains,
There, in her grace ~ I seek her, safe harbor
~
 
I choose faith, that which, I cannot see. 

 

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       ©2014 Bojenn All Rights Reserved

Leaving Adam.

Leaving Adam By Bonnie Jennings

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~

Leaving Adam

~
Eons advance and passed away.
Thought, theory, speculation and opinions, die.
Glancing through lenses, and squinting, at the sky,
Adam, pointing, at the twinkling specs, named the brilliant ballet.
 ~
 
So, following mankind, up the mountain,
And ascending a rocky path; we embarked.
My feet followed his, upward, to where the sky was arched.
His staff pointed, and the heavens, then filled me, as a refreshing fountain.
 ~
 
An advocate of The Father of Man, I desired what he sought,
Thus’ left the home of my family and upheld his zealous quest
Confidently, I abided and affirmed his every request.
Even, wore his belief’s; did just as he taught.
~
 
One day, dared I asked, Adam, the man of science,
How is Eve today?
And, if looks could kill, then Eve is dead, thus’ left us only, to pray.
Deceased, she is. He answered, with a chill of neglectful defiance.
 ~
 
Man of Science, I spoke so boldly.
At the mountain top; we stand
The stars, you named, and held, in your hand,
However, love you murdered, so coldly.
~
 
This day, I choose the mother
Her love, which first found me
Within the warm and welcoming spirit, in there, dwells she.
 And, today, I accept non-other.
~
 
So, progressing and moving towards her;
 Over, the cliff of doubt, rapidly grabbing her hem, I aim.
Because, after carefully, considering your treacherous, pains,
There, in her grace ~ I seek her, safe harbor
~
 
I choose faith, that which, I cannot see. 
 
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Contact, opening scene
Now1

Supernatural Journey (a short story)

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While dreaming in the midst of a stormy night, booming lights from the electrical bolts slashed dashing across the walls of my bedroom. I hid my eyes from the frightening waring images made from the shadows.
Miserably, I disdained my life and I, thankfully, welcomed sleep. I hated everything that God gave me and the thunderstorm came to punish me. I was certain that His wrath deliberately chastised me. Surely the grim reaper stood close to my bed. I felt his ominousness cold breath. The rumbling thunder and magnetic energy surrounding my lying body, ushered me into a sleeping journey back into time..

When sound asleep, suddenly, I heard in the distance ~ “the sounds of war?” Bombs and the shaking of the tin shelter where I hid crammed with others, whom I didn’t know. Oddly, they knew me, and there we hid tightly pressed together.
“I must have travelled back in time?” I thought.

They spoke in a foreign language. It was Polish. Everything was gray there, including their battle worn faces. The wrinkles bore sad lines of desperation. Their bodies were almost skeletons. And, I wanted to run, but when I started to leap, they held me.
Then, screaming, “no! Let go of me! Please!” I escaped only to see armed men coming my way! I caught my breath. There, in the dark of the night I saw a sign which hung swaying in the freezing rain and blustering wind. The metal sign creaked “Warszawa, 1943.” I knew where I was… The horrors of death were everywhere. Bleakness and freezing weather, trapped innocent victims.
The enemy soldiers started to grab me, but ~
I prayed that God takes me somewhere else other than WWII, Poland.

So, He granted my wish.

Rolling in the dirt, in fear of The Nazi’s, I was thence transported somewhere else in times past. Here the air was humid and the smell of death and blood permeated everywhere. Flies, fleas and moans came from dying men were everywhere.

I heard, “help me. Please, won’t you help?”
A man lay there in the brush. He was in gray and I was in blue. By his side a rebel flag was standing next to his bloody broken body.

“Where are we?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” He puzzled at my daze. “Mississippi.” He looked at me as if I was mad and he had disdain on his face, even though he was dying.
So, I reached out to lift him away from the fighting as all good men do. It was then, that I noticed my skin was dark. I was a large Negro man. I, aghast, thought, I’m in trouble now. Here I am, “a colored man,” centered on a battlefield in The Civil War. They will kill me. I will die. Now, more panicked than ever, I surrendered to my fear. How then, my old life seemed kind and benign in comparison to Warsaw and Mississippi.

I petitioned God’s help. “Grant me my own life, once again.” Sobbing from the deepest part of my being, concluded that he did not grant my request.

Then He transported me, again. I found myself sitting on a piano bar singing loudly. There was a sign hanging across the wall of the smoke filled bar. It swayed back and forth as the room seemed to move erratically. The sign said, “Welcome Molly Brown.” The crowd applauded and I smiled, warningly. The spotlights were in my eyes. A second passed. I noticed the calendar displayed on the wall said, “4.15.1912.” Gasping. “I’m on the Titanic.The night it sinks.” I whispered with dread. I knew, soon these lives and Molly Browns would be recorded in history. They were unaware and I was petrified. The iceberg floats before us. It will sink this ship and most of the applauders will soon die. Mortified of knowing the fate, I froze.

If I could change the course of history in Warsaw, the battlefield in The South, and on The Titanic, I would. If there wasn’t any goodness within me, then my travels changed me. All three places taught lessons: thankfulness, empathy and compassion. “God, I know, I understand. I’ve been selfish and unappreciative of the mundane circumstances in my “pathetic” life. I’ve been blessed all along and so ignorant.

With the final confession, I awakened in my own skin. It was my room and correct time…
My worldly travels were enlightening and my lesson? i will not murmur, grumble nor whine ever again.

Photo on 1-28-14 at 4.26 PM #3

Nothing But White Lies

It all flowed together so smoothly. Like a perfect image, of a handsome desirable home, with a white picket fence surrounding this quaint cottage. Framed with beautiful flowers everywhere ~ so are many stories similar to this one.

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This story, is of smoothing things over.
This story speaks of little white lies. Often spoken in humorous tones of voice, one hastily jests ~
Oh, well ~ we all do it. No, big deal.

Then, we mock phrases that aren’t truths either.Hell, it never hurts anyone.

Or, does it?

Yet, the lies presented in a palette of vagueness are simply, tall tales. Non-truths created to cover the picket fence in more, and more white wash.

Layer after layer, white after white, one stroke, each time so delicately brushed, that was, in the beginning. At first, it was   whispered. Spoken in deliberate calculated lies as his  smile expressed his own pleasure. She didn’t notice his cold blue eyes, his narrow lips that slightly turned up in the corners. if she had seen him, as he truly is, then, she would see his pride. The story of hunting her soul, and the fact, he lived in the home with the blooming flowers, until the colors of their bouquets lost their beauty.

He chased away the bees in his mad jealousy. When the bees disappeared, then he too, only dreamed of the next garden’s odors. The next place to lay his head on a down pillow, and only the best, for it’s season of glory, will also wilt from the rays of the hot summer sun. For fall will come, and coldness of winter is on the horizon.

So, innocent was the white fence in her vain glory she portrayed, to all. The observers watched the paint covering her. She was unaware of truth, throughout  the years. They knew her  innocent naiveté would one day turn, the unsuspecting, from white into dark grey.

Because ~ after a while, after a time the painter, the creator of the tall tale, wearies. The sociopath is no longer amused by their adrenalin bursts.  Their white lies aroused them like a drug, which no longer excites them. So, they become sloppy with their painting of fences.  And, soon, their palette, once beautiful, appears, not so pristine, after all.

The passer-by’s notice the cracks left without white-wash and the inconsistency of the painter’s strokes. But, for some reason, they pass by the fence, they keep to their own business, and let the white picket fence, fade to a grey frail border that surrounded a charming cottage. It once bloomed an array of colors with aromatic flowers. Perhaps, they pass, by because their white picket fence rotted, as well, and their flowers had, too, disappeared.  The fragrance of the blooms and the honey bees moved to pollinate a new-found quest, a new adventure.

And so, she asks, to whom does the vague ambiguities hurt? The answer is found when examining the fences. But, there hidden in the weeds, see, growing over the top of sour grass seen behind the grey fence is  a strong red rose.

 

Painting by Bojenn

 

My Dream

The dream:

The path that I followed in the desert dissipated under my feet. Then, three old friends joined my side. Their names:

Faith, Hope and Love. 
They said, “we will escort you. Do not fear. God is with you in the forest deep and dark. Every man must go alone. You must trust.”

An entity named Trust,  took the lead. I began the journey, following it.

The forest was dark and deep and the trees, like all forests, have dead trees that are equally as important which was shown to me. Vastness and the growth gathered together become one place called The Forest. Some trees are young, green and full with several shades of green and some are old and rotten. They serve as homes for the rabbits and raccoons. However, together the enormous group of all types of trees are synergistic and without the totality of the different types: old and young, light green and dark and thick and thin, the forest would not be complete. It seemed they all have a role. None are common, even though, some appear handsome, some grand and some quite irrelevant, all make for what I defined, as Eden. Despite their outward appearance, in totality, they represent the whole called the forest. In The Forest are life lessons.

~

This is when, I decide to wander into the jungle of trees, so dense. The trees and the thickets called me by name. They knew me. Whispering wisdoms and truths, I can’t resist their call nor the hypnotic beauty they have. I must wander inside. To some who live in the desert, the forest seems mysteriously evil and frightening. But I find it breathtaking, alluring and magnetic. I belong here inside this lushness and greenery. This has always been my home, my roots, my beginning. Again, I am a child that has returned to my origins. Simply, there is no other choice. The heat of the years in the desert caused me to wilt. The forest of lush green life will restore my soul.

The temperature dropped as the shade of the canopy of trees welcomed me back. The coolness of shadows and the humidity embraced my body. Comfortable now, as the parched desert took a toll on my skin. My face shown, in the cool spring water in which I peered, as leather. The sun did what it was suppose to do and cooked the human quest from me. The heat was the “refining fire” that The Bible, explains. Frailty and a withered reflection reflects from the gentle waving cool waters of the spring. I look at myself, in it’s mirror. 

THEN ~

The tropical birds flew by my head!  “Oh my!”
I forgot about them and their array of colors. Greens to match the forest, oranges to show god’s revelations and blues to give inspiration. Smiling at the gift of colors, I moved forward through the limbs and undergrowth.

I came upon ~

The monkeys who did not trust me. So, they watched everything I did; my movements, my glances, my pausing and my nodding of hello to them. They, suspicious of my intentions, good or bad, would find out my purpose. This fact, I knew as they were the guardians of food and accommodation  I greeted them honestly with a nod, “hello, I mean no harm.”
They let me pass, for now. However, they did not offer me food. They ate the fruit which their many bodies protected. “Food will come later, maybe,” so, I hoped. I was hungry.

The flying creatures of the forest flitted contently from flower to flower, from creek to the water falls splash. Amazed, I stood watching. Delighting, in the beauty and coolness, which those in the desert, so feared. Bending down by the water’s edge, I cupped my hands and drank the fresh cool water. To my surprise, I drank with another animal. It shared. This was the rule of the forest. The rules were not written or displayed. But, the rules were understood within the heart of everything that lived. And, if the rules were not abided by, then, the creature was expelled to the desert with  “the humans.

The humans, I dare say with trembling fear, captured, enslaved, ate and killed them for sport. The humans were considered, the “demons.” The humans are to be feared. And I, a human, in their forest, recognized the fact, I am an intruder. But, they will allow me passage, for a while. I will have to prove my integrity as a creature of God’s. I knew this truth. 

Then ~

Needing a rest, I sat at the edge of a tree’s roots. Before falling soundly into a coma of sleep, I noticed the multi-colored green moss. It was damp, cold and sprung to new life. Small and delicate, the tiny leaves of multi greens invited me to observe it’s world. I looked harder, further, and magnified the mosses world in my imaginations. I saw another place, another home for strange odd life which was microscopic to human vision, but in the forest, I could see the tiny world as alive as my own. “Fascinating.” Much different than my own, but also, dynamic, I saw and watched their world. They moved in a simple method, But it was their own way. There doings was purposeful. They seemed happy, as far as I could tell… After all… I’m not the judge or giver of life.

Submerging then into a deep sleep ~ 

I’m aware though tired and almost comatosed, a man stands by my side as I sleep. He is familiar. He is a quiet male entity or being. Next to my lying body, he stands with dowsing sticks. I awaken and watch. His sticks circled around and around, then, rested pointing west. With a look to the west, his eyes said, “get up child,” then he pointed and said,. “this way is best.”

This time, I chose not to rebel. The last time I said, “No,” I was his teenage daughter. This time, I will listen. Though he a man of few words, he will show me the right direction. We will not make the same mistake. See, I learned that lesson. I take my nap sack and head west. The father image pointed to the direction that was best for my journey. He said, “you will be safe if you sojourn that way.

Then, my next snore occurs. ~

There are several dimensions in the forest.
This is only two; shown me.
The ability to sleep and travel at the same time is possible. In the forest the hidden mysteries are revealed. Truths are given if asked. But, truths are experienced by walking through the forest. To know: is to journey here and face fear and beauty as a warrior princess. He says, “you can do it. Faith is with you. You must follow, Trust and Belief. They will accompany you, even if you return to the desert.”

My understanding that my father image reaffirms, which I already know in my heart,
This is what I know:

It is also known that I may return to the desert at any time. The choice is mine. Not, any another’s.
No one, makes another do anything. 
There is no one to blame, there is no control, that I don’t allow.
Choices for good are granted  with heavenly abodes.
Choices for destruction are exiled to the desert.
Some wander more than forty years.
Forty years is the averaged time to learn life’s hardest lessons.
There are familiar lessons passed down for generations.
Those lessons last many years. They are the difficult ones.
They end when the last student acknowledges the familiar lesson and what was learned by mistakes made.
Apologize humbly for all wrong choices.
Be a peacemaker.  
He or she leads the familiar lineage back into Eden. 
This is our mission if we choose.

Before, I leave Eden, a monkey comes with fruit in it’s hand and offers this to me. He says, mind to mind, telepathically, “here you will need this for your pilgrimage. Eden will be here when you want to return.”

I frantically reply, “Oh, I don’t want to go anywhere else. I want to stay here. Please. Father, Daddy, I am frightened to return to the parched land and dessert. Please, let me stay.

My father image and the monkey stand together and with kind humility and honesty point the way  to my right path. They say, "no, it’s not time. There is more knowledge to gain, more lessons for greater appreciation, more spiritual insight to achieve, You will return one day  Until then, we are with you where ever you choose. “

They faded into the morning’s light peeking into my bedroom window. The sun’s light greeted me with, “hello..

 

   

 

Author Notes
Just another very real dream. Please, understand, this dream was symbolic and humans are not “demons.” This is not to be read literally. It is written from the animal kingdom. 
There are parts of my dream that become relevant and clearer as I write and meditate on the symbolic meaning.  

Thank you for reading. 

Thank you Deloralock at fanart review for your picture which shows the precious animals in the forest.

The Gripes That Stole Christmas

The Gripes That Stole Christmas  
By Bojenn Bonnie Jennings  *
A work in progress
Christmas 2012

imageThe Gripes That Stole Christmas

Shouted all through our land

All people were silent

Including the Caroling band

The stockings were hung

By chimneys with care

In hopes their gripes would silently scare

Demanding their wicked Christmas dares

And I in rebellion

With eggnog in tub

Settled not in ~ no not very snug

Growling at their fake “HAPPY HOLIDAY” hugs

While shopping at the mall mulling and frumping

And watching others snarling and melancholy

Noticed the void of godly spirit filled voices

Singing of the historical birth of a savior.

Being born in a stable so lowly and humble

Offering us hope when misguided

Then, suddenly from the crowd I heard…

…what? Someone singing?

Yes!… ?.. No… oh…(only to sigh)

Only teenagers rapping …

Then, disturbed at this plight,

That tv media stole man’s beacon light.

All for the sake of our “human rights.”

Then a child from out of nowhere came

Tugged on my garment smiling my name

“Though our hearts break with too many changes

He hasn’t gone. No, he’s simply preparing.”

Then she called called out his names;

Boldly declaring:

Now Yeshua

Now Jehovah

Now Jesus

Now God

Onward believers

To love this world!

Now call them

And tell them about my love

And promise I’m soon coming

And I will not deny

Now, don’t you be shy

Then the little child hugged me

And disappeared from my sight

But the twinkle she left beaming from her eyes

And a joy over took me

As then I smiled

And shouted MERRY CHRISTMAS!

And saluted good night.

BoJenn 2012

The gripes that stole Christmas,
Shouted all through our land
All people were silent
Including the Caroling band

The stockings were hung
By chimneys with care
In hopes of the gripes would, SHUT UP!
With their wicked Christmas dares

And I in rebellion
With eggnog in tub
Settled not in ~ no not very snug
Growling at their fake “HAPPY HOLIDAY” hugs

While shopping at the mall mulling and frumping
And watching others snarling and melancholy
Noticed the void of godly spirit filled voices
Singing of the historical birth of a savior.

Being born in a stable so lowly and humble
Offering us hope when misguided
Then, suddenly from the crowd I heard…
…what? Someone singing?

Yes!… ?.. No… oh…(only to sigh)
Only teenagers rapping …
Then, disturbed at this plight,
That tv media stole man’s beacon light.
All for the sake of “human rights.”

Then a child from out of nowhere came
Tugged on my garment smiling my name
“Though our hearts break with too many changes
He hasn’t gone. No, he’s simply preparing.”

Then she called called out his names;
Boldly declaring:
Now Yeshua
Now Jehova
Now Jesus
Now God

Onward believers
To love this world!
Now call them
And tell them about my love

And promise I’m soon coming
And I will not deny
For expect I will see you
Now, don’t you be shy

Then the little child hugged me
And disappeared from my sight
But the twinkle she left beaming from her eyes
And a joy over took me
As then I smiled
And shouted MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And saluted good night.

BoJenn 2012

The gripes that stole Christmas,
Shouted all through our land
All people were silent
Including the Caroling band

The stockings were hung
By chimneys with care
In hopes of the gripes would, SHUT UP!
With their wicked Christmas dares

And I in rebellion
With eggnog in tub
Settled not in ~ no not very snug
Growling at their fake “HAPPY HOLIDAY” hugs

While shopping at the mall mulling and frumping
And watching others snarling and melancholy
Noticed the void of godly spirit filled voices
Singing of the historical birth of a savior.

Being born in a stable so lowly and humble
Offering us hope when misguided
Then, suddenly from the crowd I heard…
…what? Someone singing?

Yes!… ?.. No… oh…(only to sigh)
Only teenagers rapping …
Then, disturbed at this plight,
That tv media stole man’s beacon light.
All for the sake of “human rights.”

Then a child from out of nowhere came
Tugged on my garment smiling my name
“Though our hearts break with too many changes
He hasn’t gone. No, he’s simply preparing.”

Then she called called out his names;
Boldly declaring:
Now Yeshua
Now Jehova
Now Jesus
Now God

Onward believers
To love this world!
Now call them
And tell them about my love

And promise I’m soon coming
And I will not deny
For expect I will see you
Now, don’t you be shy

Then the little child hugged me
And disappeared from my sight
But the twinkle she left beaming from her eyes
And a joy over took me
As then I smiled
And shouted MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And saluted good night.

BoJenn 2012

Original version

The gripes that stole Christmas
Shouted all through our land
All people were silent
Including the band

The stockings were hung
By chimneys with care
In hopes of the gripes would, SHUT UP!
With their wicked Christmas dares

And I in rebellion
With eggnog in the tub
Settled not in snug
For their fake “HAPPY HOLIDAY” hugs

While shopping at the mall mulling and frumping
And watching others seeming melancholy
Noticed the void of spirit filled voices
Singing of the historical birth of our savior.

Being born in a stable so lowly and humble
Offering us hope that’s often misguided
Then, suddenly from the crowd I heard…
Someone singing?

Yes!… ?.. No… ?
Oh…(sigh)
Only teenagers rapping …
Then, feeling I; disturbed

Then a child from out of nowhere came
Tugged on my garment smiling my name
“Though our hearts break with too many changes
He hasn’t gone. No, he’s simply preparing.”

Then she called called out his names;
Boldly declaring:
Now Yeshua
Now Jehova
Now Jesus
Now God

Onward believers
To the top of the world!
Now call them
And tell them about my love

And promise I’m soon coming
And don’t deny
For soon I will see you
Now, don’t you cry

Then the little child hugged me
And disappeared from my sight
But the twinkle she left beaming from her eyes
And a joy over took me
As then I smiled
And shouted MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And saluted good night.

imageimagePosted from WordPress for Android
@copyright 2013 Bonnie Jennings

Finding Magic In Logical Reason

There is grey found between black and white.
A simple smile between laughter and frowns.
Valley’s separate mountains and and ocean homes.
Peace is midst hate and love.
Resolution and forgiveness create the magic found in sordid facts.

Mankind handed the the plan
To collide the facts
To orchestrate the energies
To direct major empires
Handing one olive branch despite stubborn pride

Yet there still is black and white
Grey is middle ground
Absolute facts in algebra
And God in the breath of life

A breath defies the carbon atom
Who can explain this equation
But man handed the plans
Commanded to
use God’s magic

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Madonna Gently Weeping

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Madonna,  you stand there. Lost and forlorn.

Frightened again. The Forest of Fears gnawing

eating, biting your soul.

It tries sucking life from you.

Remember the laws

It consumes only the willing.

Foreboding and Trembling it’s children.

The playground bullies

But, you Madonna hold magic

With your spoken words

Manifesting freedoms from Fear

Calling on the God of the World.

Reminding God above

That no weapon formed against you will prosper

No earthly king will win.

Triumphant over bad company you will be

So simple is faith for war

Forgettable are weapons of warfare

But, Fear gained access to our mind

Grabbing strong the reigns again

Taking charge as planned

Making your horses follow your intended path

Thanking the Lord above

Place guilt and accusations behind

Wearing the crown of forgiveness instead

For HE has the way for all men

We pocess belief for the day.

Posted from WordPress for Android

Fables For Jacob. Now, Mother’s Love Is….

Fables For Jacob. Now, Mother’s Love Is…..