When I was younger I took a lot of shortcuts
But when you’re older and you hit a brick wall
You have to wait
Wait for a process that grinds you and turns you to zero
You have to learn and embrace a process that molds you into something different
Something not everyone will embrace or want to be a part off
You have to love a process that isolates you and molds the true you
When I was younger I used to take shortcuts
But there are no shortcuts when you’re young or older
If I said I knew it all I’d be lying
If I said I know where I’m going, It’ll probably be a bigger lie
I’m completely blind, but your name keeps me going
Your name is the love song that carries me on
My sorrow is much
But I cannot forget you
It’s like your name is the password to my heart
Oh, Yeshua HaMashiach lead me gentle Shepard
For this sheep is blind, lost and weary
Just like Jacob’s stripped sheep, I ascended with the label zebra
My God, my God, I sing a song to your name in my heart
If you will hear me, don’t leave me alone
Gather me and mine onto yourself
I search for you from dawn till dusk
And the adversary mocks and taunts me, asking; “where is your God” & “there is no God”
My heart is bare before you
I have only you upon my heart and upon my lips
My grief has become grievous because it seems they’ve stolen you from me
Do not delay
Please reveal your truth
Above all else I hope I’m able to meet your standards
Not anyone else’s, but yours alone
Above all else, I hope I didn’t let you down
And you look down on me not only with pity but with love
Because I have loved you with every fiber of my being
Above all else I hope you look with eyes of mercy on they that you gave me
Because yours they were, and you gave them to me
Above all else I hope I made you proud
That’s all a servant longs for.
I yearn to say I’m your child, but who am I kidding, I’ll happily settle for servant
If you break me, you are able to fix me up again
I hold on to you and no one else
Just like the psalmist, I bear afflictions for you
So above all else, please don’t leave me hanging!
Watchman what about the night?Poet where is your pen?
Shall I write of you?
Should I tell the truth?
Is your truth known?
Watchman what about the night?
Are you ready?
Is the terror gone?
Are we there yet?
Have we reached his presence?
When will they let us alone to serve in the presence of our God
With a pure heart and a true spirit?
When will they let us alone?
When will they stop to twist the truth?
When will they stop the lies
Watchman what time is it?
Tell them to leave us alone
We’re children of the most high
We cannot change our stripes
Watchman what about the night?
Is terror gone yet?
He’s given me a new charge
Not many can look into this
For sin is complete and prophecy is fulfilled
A new thing has begun
Even now it springs forth
Blessed are those who wait on the living God
And know his name
A new song is written
A new melody is started
Even now Prophecy is complete
He made me a watchman
Now I must speak
For my watch is come
I must stand at my post
Ready with a tune that beats to his name
I can write to you of my love for you, but now my spirit is broken and no words can describe my pain
I can tell you all about my heart ache for you
But my spirit is broken and I’ve no where to turn
I would tell you my love for you has killed me
But your spirit would simply bring me back again just to afflict me
I know it’s not you, but the watchmen who barely know you
Yet I wish you would deal with me directly
It’s easy to say I give up
That my heart is broken and I can no longer love you
But who am I kidding
You knew I would never stop loving you before you called me into existence
Now what’s left of me?
Does a man go into desolation because he loves his God
Or will his God find him and heal him of his affliction.
I read the words: “I’ve spoken”, twice. Now I use those same words.
It’s your turn!
There was a time when I could count the Omers, say la Shana tova, & rosh hashana, but then my time came and there was non to count with me.
I was expectant of you. Knowing it was time, but I had no clue what it was time for. And for that I’m truly sorry.
It’s the beginning of days, the beginning of freedom, perhaps the beginning of a new hope. A hope only you and I know about.
I spoke with new tongues. It wasn’t even Pentecost. At least I’m not sure it was, because I ended up calling it necromancy.
How does one speak with the voice of the dead? Perhaps that’s why Yeshua said they’re not dead. For He’s not the God of the dead, but the God of the living
A new fear, a new dread, a new hope, and a new voice. Like a rushing river, a million voices stilled by the need to be what I perceive whole again. Yet waiting for you to confirm your word. Because I know insanity is sanity, and nothing is truly as it is.
Now I speak in phrases only you and I know about. Hoping you’ll tell me I didn’t miss you. That I didn’t trade you for something else, and you’re still here. Just a lot more closer, and a lot more comfy.
I guess this is my story. The story of us. 1 more prophet.
Funny how just about everyone has the name Jesus on their lips, yet if I say I saw Jesus you’d be the first to commit me to an insane house
I would say I saw Jesus, but it was the spirit of Ephraim that led me, and the words of Yeshua that saved me, yet salvation is a soliloquy
I shouldn’t be allowed to do a lot of things. Yet freedom has perfected craft. They seek my craft with an empty heart, and fill the gaps with selfish knowledge.
Now craft knows not Salem, and Salem is devoid of Yehu. The big white whale is now a demon for trying to protect his own, and moby’s story is no better than an ignorant matrix trilogy
The writers, the writers! The storytellers are liars, no more than vanity and vain theories. Making us chasers of chaos, for a single butterfly effect to complete perfection.
If only we knew, if only we knew! We would cry out for a glimpse of your faith.
I went searching for the one they call Solomon’s wisdom
I went searching for something, I can now no longer remember
Oh yes, I went searching for the promise
The promise from of old
The one the watchmen have cleverly hidden
The one the clever ones know to speak nothing of
Like your fool, I went searching for you
Cunning wisdom, some call Sophia
A nameless one named by man
But what I found was afflicted
What I found was madness
What I found was death blossoming into life
An unholy crow sanctified by God alone
They said I was crazy
But life is crazy
To be alive is to be dead
To be aware is to be alive yet dead
Where’s the promise of old
The new to become
In Golgotha which is to say skull
There they crucified us
There they left us to rot in the morning sun
Save us Lord, save us
For our delusion is more than we can bare
We’ve become the sons of sorrow
And our prophesy has become endless
Save us Lord, save us
For our rock is unknown in this earth