Three


The Savior did Pray,
Take this cup
away…”

Thrice did he
pray but the
Father asked
Him to Obey.

A false Declaration,
Peter did cry,
“I know him not,”
three
times over he denied.

Darkest hours in
human history,
Twelve to three
he blistered in
the sun.
Bearing the
weight of all
sin you and I have done.

Weep, weep,
gnashing of teeth,
Hope has been killed.
Hell rejoices in Victory!

But,

On the Third Day,
the curtain
was
torn.

The Defiler shrieked
in defeat as
the Christ
rose to the right-hand
Seat.

Holy, Holy, Holy,
Lord, God, Almighty.

Take My Hand


Blinding radiance
brings an arm to shield her sight.
Looking into the
faces crushing about
reveals they see nothing.

Pulsations travel through the soil
moving her being.
A tingling sensation progresses from
her feet, to her knees, to her center.

Blood is afire as it surges through
her veins making the roar
audible to her alone.

Lungs freeze in expansion.
The heart stills as the
energy continues
its upward journey.
There is no pain.
There is no fear.
There is only being.

The eyes once stung by
the radiance now adjust as
the energy fills them
from within.

Her eyes see…everything.
The throngs continue in
their pursuits.
They are shrouded in
darkness, yet appear happy.
Nothing has changed for them.
They are happy.

Exhaling, she realizes she had
been holding her breath.
Form after form becomes
tangible in the light.
The colors are brilliant and
hold a depth she has never
before witnessed.

The air is crisp and dew
droplets cling to the
vegetation growing in lush control.

A small, unfamiliar sound
tickles her ear. Looking about
her eyes find its maker. A small,
red-haired fox. A kit, alone but
unafraid of her approach. It was mewing.
Calling for its mother or siblings, she thought.
Scooping it up, she knew she had
never felt such luxurious softness.

It’s eyes looked at her with interest
but began its mewing again when she
failed to produce the familiar scent its
mother owned alone.

The plants before her parted.
The dame had found her lost kit.
There was no tension between the
three. The mother simply came up
and plucked the kit from the woman’s hand.
Then it disappeared into the foliage.

Perhaps she was sick,
lying in the hospital with fever?
Maybe she was dead!
Regardless of these thoughts,
she felt nothing but peace.

The mutterings of those
milling about the edge of the light
was indistinct chatter. Although
fascinated by this fact, her attention was
drawn back toward the place she
knelt.

“Take my hand, child.”
A voice so melodic commanded
with gentle strength.
Every cell tingled at its sound.
What a glorious sensation!

She accepted the extended hand
and felt her entire being
radiate with power. It was
as if every good thing her senses
had ever recorded was
being felt all at once.
Waves of glorious sensation
made her want to hold this hand
forevermore.

Once upon her feet, he released her.
Eyes spilling their joy,
she looked upon his face with
intensity.

He heard the questions of her
heart but only offered a smile
of knowing in return.
Once her tears stopped
spilling and her
breathing leveled.
He began.

“This is a veil separating you
from the purity and
love I used to create existence.
Your mortal self will not be
permitted to tarry.” his voice
caressed her senses.

She could only listen as
her entire being was captivated
by the love emanating from
that beautiful voice.

“Daughter, you have been
called to walk between the
light and darkness.” a soft
sadness caressed every word.
“Some of my children are so
lost they have accepted
the darkness as reality.” pain had
entered his voice and the sensation
upon her being was pure agony.

“Are you willing to help them?” he
asked motioning to the shadowed
throngs.”Some are so far away
from the light, they cannot see a pinpoint.
Some have so much pain they
have given up the search.
And still others are diligently
working to destroy.”

The pain in his words brought her
to her knees. The intensity
was searing her essence. He was
not inflicting it upon her,
she was experiencing
a ‘glancing blow’ of
his broken heart.

“Daughter, take my hand”, his words
ended her pain immediately.
His loved poured into her
as he grasped her hand.

“You must go,”
speaking with all authority.
“You are not alone.
I have called many to the path you
have been asked to walk.
Each of them have arrived upon
this path through different vehicles
but all who have been called know well
of hardship and pain.
Just as you, they have survived
the darkness
with help from those, whom
I sent before you.
If you choose this task,
you must keep one foot in each realm.”

Each word he spoke
overwhelmed her due to the
sensations his voice caused and the
weight of their content. As long as
she held onto his hand, she was able to
endure it, but only… just.

She knew her answer and felt herself being
pulled back toward the edge… between.
As her fingertips held desperately to his,
she felt as if she were drowning
gasping for her final breath.
Everything stilled.

“Daughter, have peace. I am always
with you. Never will I leave you.
Others are already in place
to help you with this
most important task.
I love you my sweet,
darling daughter.
I love all of you.”

At once, she felt others pushing
their way past her and the sound of
those selling their wares. Her eyes
focused and just when her mind
had begun to rationalize the experience,
she felt…more.

A beautiful green and yellow butterfly
took flight. She watched its
graceful dance
as the sun shown brilliantly
through it’s veneer wings.
The stark contrast between its
beauty and the misery that abounded
all around was
breathtaking.

“Everything…is different,” She
whispered. A broad smile graced
her countenance as she
took her first step toward
hope.

Spirit Fire


heart

Spirit afire,
love in bloom
whispers
begin to weave
a bond for eternity.

Time treads ahead
caring not for
love.

Love in Lust
or
Lust in Love?
The Spirit Fire
burns
permitting the
womb to grow
twice again.

Time treads forward
caring not for
love.

We look no more
upon the others
countenance
fearing we may
glimpse disappointment
given birth by debt, pain,
hateful words leaving
the Spirit Fire
barely smoldering.

Time treads forward
caring not for
love.

My locks are grey and
yours are thin.
Both hold more
weight than when
we first began.
Children grown
leaving each of
us feeling alone.

Time treads forward
caring not for
love.

How have we gotten here
to this place of
grief and despair?
Why did we allow the
Spirit Fire to die?
We loved deeply
passionately so
why did the fire die?

Time treads forward
caring not for
love.

Looking upon his bride
he sighed deep inside.
Eyes filling to the brim
wiping his wife’s
gently from her cheek.
‘I am not ready to say
goodbye,’ thought he.
I love my bride.

Time treads forward
caring not for
love.

Gazing up into her
husband’s grief-stricken face
she thought she glimpsed a
spark she had thought long
extinguished. Life had beaten
them down and tried to steal
their joy. It had bombarded them
with doubts, fears, and temptations.
She gently wiped his tears
smiling softly.
“I think we lost our anchor
somewhere among
the years. Alas, now
I see the spark
that is the Spirit
Fire,” her voice trembled.

Time treads forward
caring not for
love.

“Yes, beloved, when we
first began this journey
we thought time was endless
but now, here we are and
I realize those years
were but a wisp of smoke.”
He gathered her into his embrace
kissing her soundly and whispering
his love and devotion.
She returned his affection
but only for a moment.
He grasped her all the
tighter as her
Spirit Fire left her.

Time treads forward
caring not for
love.

If you have been
blessed with the
other half of your
Spirit Fire then
LOVE him or her
in Action, Deed, and Word
Every minute of every day.
Each person was created for another.
Two halves of a whole.
If your choices bring you together
then recognize the miracle in
finding him or her.
God will use your choices for
ultimate good but there are
many paths of pain, for
love is hard work and
the price is high but
the rewards are eternal.

Set your anchor to avoid the Drift.

Time treads forward
caring not
for love.

Place of the Skull


By Tina Blackledge
2-11-2016

Desperate sobs wracked
his frame. Grief so sharp
it caused each breath
to be labored.

Thunder shook his Soul
demanding an answer.
Averting his eyes from
his heinous deed,
his thoughts could
find no anchor.

The skies opened and
the heavens wept.
Each raindrop
drilled straight
to his core.

Jagged stones ground
into his knees but he
did not notice.
The tearing of his
soul was far
too agonizing to think
of anything else.

The tempest inside him
would not quiet. He
had been wrong, very
wrong and he could
not fix his mistake.

The leather strapping
securing the spear head
ground into his well-calloused
hands due the fierceness
of his grip.

Crimson Life, from the man
he had pierced, traversed
the deadly blade.
Falling rain could not
erase the proof of his act.
Rivulets split into two streams
as it slide down the sharp
edge then onto the soldier’s arm.

“Forgive me…I did not know”,
uttered the solider.
Each word was forced
from his throat as if
it was a burning cactus.

Three days, he would tarry
at this place of death.
Each breath a shallow
attempt to fill his weary lungs.

Three days of agony.
Three days of utter despair.
Three days in Hell.

As the sun crested the hill
on the third day, the clouds
cleared and a fresh
wind blew the dust
from his nostrils.

There was a commotion
at the Nazarene’s tomb.
Someone had stolen
the body?

The shouts around him
seemed as if they were
a distant happening.
Taking the last ounce
of his strength, he forced
himself to his knees.

Sputtering mud he had
breathed in during the storm.
His lungs were afire,
his eyes caked with mucous
and mud.

Three days and nights
he had lain in
blood soaked mud
of the man he
had helped to
crucify.

Remembering his anguish,
his participation,
his great sin,
he began heaving,
vomiting his deadly deeds upon
the blood stained stones.

The soldier knew he had
chosen poorly.
He knew he had
participated in
snuffing out the
light of the world.
He knew he was doomed
for all eternity.

“My Son, get up,”
a strong voice commanded.
Instantly, the man’s breathing became
normal and all dread left his heart.
Turning, he saw the
Nazarene standing
before him.

“You are forgiven, my son.”
“Go and sin no more,
you did not extinguish the
light child. No, the light lives
in all of my children so
it can never be put out.”
“Go, shine my light
throughout the nations.
Many are lost, Go
and shine brightly”,
his savior lavished
love upon him healing
his torn soul.

Forgiveness waits
for the repentant
soul.
Be certain,
YOU are
Shining.

Walking upon Rice Paper


Walk upon the Rice
Goosebumps signaled her
skins reaction to the
cool evening breeze.

Far she had traveled to seek
understanding and wisdom
knowing the cost of which
would be hardship and pain.
Finally, she could see the pinnacle.

Moonbeams danced upon the
massive frame of the pagoda
sitting atop the next ridge.
Its beauty and solitude
was brightly awash in
a crystal blue light of the
heavenly star.

The frost laden night made
visual each exhale.
The ice crystals danced
in front of her beckoning
her to quicken her pace.

Ancient doors, cloaked in frost,
reflected the moonlight in
an awesome radiance.
Each door creaked
in protest as they
swung open to
permit her
entry.

Candlelight flickered strongly
casting a ballet of
fanciful shadows upon
the walls just beyond the light
that bore them.

The room was empty except
for her own person. It was
spacious but void of decoration
or comforts.
A path, running thru
the center of the space,
appeared to be
a delicate, long sheet
of rice paper.

Burned into a wooden beam above
the path these words instructed,
“Walk the path.
Leave no mark.”

Knowing the paper to be
fragile gave her pause before
venturing forward.
Her first step tore the paper
causing pain to travel through her.
Fear made the second step more
difficult to take but she took it.

Reaching the end of the path, of
thirty-three steps, she collapsed.
Pain and heartache had brutalized
her body and spirit.

Looking back upon the path
she wept at seeing the tears
all along the path. Before her
eyes, the paper was mended
by an unseen hand.

A soft voice instructed,
“Again, but leave no mark.”

The very thought of taking that
path again filled her with trepidation.
She thought to herself that she
just could not take that walk again but
obeyed the commandment without
understanding why she was
being told to do this.

After a hundred and twenty
attempts, each
ending the same as the first,
She plead for mercy and guidance.
“I cannot walk that path again.
There is no way I can walk it without
leaving a mark behind. Please, I do not
understand why this is necessary. I
cannot do this. How is this teaching
me wisdom?” She begged.

“Once more. Walk the path but
leave no mark.” the voice
commanded.

After sobbing a bit, she gathered
her strength then girded herself
with faith and determination.
“Father, please help me. I cannot
do this on my own.” she whispered.

Taking her first step, there was no pain.
The paper did not tear. Each step was
taken with more joy and confidence
until reaching the end of the path.
Looking back, she saw the unblemished
paper she had just traveled. Not only
was the paper devoid of tears but it did not
even have the slightest impression
from any of her thirty-three steps.
Now, she was more baffled than ever.

“I do not understand. What
does this mean?” she asked the
unseen voice.

He began his discourse, “Every step
you take affects my world and the people
with whom you come into contact. It is impossible
for you to walk through this world without leaving a
mark. Walking alone, in your own knowledge, these
marks are painful to you and those you touch. When
you walk with me and my will; it is then that I work
through your every step to bring my light, love, and
healing to my creation. You cannot do this alone. It
is only possible when I carry my children. My wisdom,
mercy and love will flow through you if you humble
yourself to become my vessel. Shed your ideas of
self importance, presumptions of knowing my
will and just follow my voice. I will lead you
to my light. Others will see me
shinning through you and
hunger after the peace I offer. Follow
me and I will ensure that each step
you take will be filled with purpose.”

As the massive doors swung
closed behind her she thought,
“My thoughts are not your thoughts,
My ways are not your ways.”

Now she knew that she needed
to listen for her Father’s voice and
obey him in order to make each step
of her life bring forth fruit. We cannot
do it alone and we cannot see the
entire picture or outcome. That means
it is very important to finish whatever task
the Father sends without knowing the reason.

Alas, relief swept over her as she understood.
We are vessels that the Father works through.
We need only trust him and
listen to his still, small voice.