Floating or Shame

My ideas are presumptions about reality, but they remain imagination until tested.

I try to create out of them, build upon them, and change with them, but it does me no good. Each time I try I have not made it. I’m no closer to reality. Nothing has changed. What good to me are these ideas? They do me no good and so I see, yet without reflection I’m back at it like OCD. So here I am.

Floating.

Hovering above the reality I see, my ideas mix as they look for a match where they might land. But I look down and there is nothing there. The color is not right. The shape is off. What am I missing?

There is something here…almost…it is so near I can feel it. I will try a different way.

Shame.

Ah, I see what I’m missing! It’s so clear! There it is! I can taste the color. It’s in my hands. True in a way I did not comprehend. Shame has brought me down to reality.

Wait.

My ideas do not match. They shatter on impact. I do not like this. Reality is so awful. How sick I feel…has my imagination been tested?

But without being above, I cannot reflect on it. Shame has brought me into the rough of it, but that is all it has done. My ideas cannot be tested without a view. I’m desperate to know is my imagination proving me true?

There is a place and I know it’s true.

I have heard of it in times gone past. I’ve sung its songs, danced its dance, and eaten its eats. Good as they are, we all know the best things come in threes.

Was I only imagining? Is there hope for when I’ve yet to reach my goal? What is my goal? They are both the same.

Reality is truth. Truth is reality. They cannot separate. Then what is hope? Hope is taking both in time. Hope is when imaginations ideas match with the true place. The true place comes down to this round ground. Better than a touchdown.

Truth does not depend on my floating and shame. Round and round I need not go. My distance nor my nearness cannot change truth. Truth stays the same. It is here. It is coming. Now and not yet.

New ideas are what is needed. No, wait. That cannot be. Because truth stays the same so what is needed cannot come into being. I must have something old, tested. But that is not quite right either. For just as the new ideas won’t do since they have changed in their coming into existence, so the old was once new and I’m back to where I began. What to do…

Perhaps I’m being pedantic. Often I am. An idea that is true will fit with reality and thus position my imagination even higher than floating yet more grounded than shame. An idea that is true will fit, not shatter, as it matches onto the map of reality.

Yes, this is the place and it’s true.

An idea new to me does not mean it’s new. An idea the ancients knew does not make it old. Truth is outside of time. But then how can I know it? How can I taste it? I can both know and taste it because I can taste and see in mind that truth comes from what else but its place: The true place.

I want to float above and get a look at this true place come down, but I fear the reason why is I’m able to live a lie. Safer to stay off the ground. Out of reality. Up in the air. But this is the same as being on the fence. I need not, must not, muzzle my imagination in shame either. I see now that while in shame I come into contact with the true place, my ideas are not true, for they are reactionary to shame. A reorientation must occur. What can I do with my shame? I’ve abandoned my floating, but the ground is hard and hurts my feet. This will take time for my imagination to catch up with how things really are. For the first time I see it; reality is truth and truth is reality. It’s a place familiar with here. It’s similar like the garden before the fall. I’m starting to remember the taste and color.

The true place has come. Now and not yet. It’s here.

No more floating or shame.

John

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John stands,
Shameless.
Always,
Blameless.

John thinks,
He's tight.
John thinks,
He's right. 

Each night,
John creeps.
In light:
John sleeps.

Each day,
He breaks;
Whits fray,
Ground quakes-

Inserts-
Plows through;
Truth hurts:
John's Through. 

Idol broke:
Love hits. 
Now woke,
John sits.

 

Love Dwells

 

If you don’t
Feel love,
If you don’t
Think of,

Those whom surround
You now;
Those who are bound
For Hell.

And somehow
You think,
You have had,
The drink-

That represents
Christ’s blood;
His covenant:
His love.

 

 

Then, if I may,
Suggest a Jew,
I think I’ll say,
His gift’s for you. 

Repent and believe,
Vigorously.
Mercy you’ll receive,

Continuously.

Love them often.
Love each one well.
He is awesome.
In Christ, love dwells.

Trying Thomas

 

Trying Thomas tried to make it or break it. He did not try for a tie. He walked at his own stride with confidence at his side and knew that others would soon fall behind. He had his own poise and his own style. Nothing was intimidating to him. Trying Thomas sang to a different kind of hymn. When presented with a problem, he approached it head on. Because of this many labeled him head strong. Because  of this, many considered him to be wrong. But still, Trying Thomas tried.  Continue reading

Fictional Memoirs: Suburbia Of Comfortability

 

Love your enemy.

As your life has gone, you’ve never been much of a winner. Albeit you reached the rank of Runner-up, thinking of how close you were makes you bitter. Encountering people with differing ideologies and preferences makes you frustrated and annoyed as if those other human beings are attached to you like glue. You curse them militantly, strategically reinforcing the perception of their stupidity. Continue reading