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Sunday, July 06, 2003

Netherworld: The great reconciliation

I dreamt one morning that the darkness came…
Of the things of true night and never ending rain…

I dreamt one night of the eternal morn
Of the sunshine of God forgetting my scorn…

The damn pain
As I lose my control
The damn hurt
As I give in to my burn

Elated decision
Forgotten once more
To flog the prisoner
The candy assed whore.

Where does my help come from
My help comes from my death
Where’s God when I pay the pest
Where’s the face that shines on me
Bound by my sin never set free…

Where’s God when I want to die
Watching waiting and listening to me cry
Listening hearing when my muscles jerk
Hearing the cry when I lose my perk…

Where does my help come from?
My help comes from my death
Where’s God when I pay the pest
Here’s the face that shines on me
Ever more setting me free…

Elated decision
Forgotten no more
No peaceful sleep
Purifying the whore

The great joy
When I win the race
The great love
When I stand again to face

I dreamt one morning that the darkness came…
Of the things of true night and never ending rain…

I dreamt one night of the eternal morn
Of the sunshine of God forgetting my scorn…


just a note, I concieved a lot of this from CS Lewis' Great divource
To find things Lost

Forgotten, impoverished, and dusty
My soul it longs to hear
Forever, eternal, never
My heart is begs in fear

Elation, joy, and bright
Lost for years to come
Despair, pain, and death
Lost in history now numb

Happy…
There’s happy
Sad…
There’s sad

Living…
I suppose
Dead…
Never so bad

My search for the center begins at the edge
My God to dismember my heart with a sledge
Elation to enter, Despair as well
Love in the embers, and fires-- far from hell.

Sunday, February 02, 2003

For my Uncle

Encamped at night amidst the hills
The shepherds tend their flocks
The spring air calls the kings to war
And darkness creeps the walk

The man in darkness now in light
Amidst the preachers soul
He smiled so big when Peter called
And made the darkness go

Toward my face he smiled at me
My older counterpart
He held my hand amid the darkness
And the ship of light embarked

On the way to Valinor
His hands raised in glory
The ship it sailed to ever more
Thought not the end of story

The ship it landed at dock
To the cottage of lost play
Where darkness never berates the sun
And the tattered soul not turned away.

Saturday, February 01, 2003

I wrote a letter thursday to my uncle, I never sent it, Friday he went into a coma and today (Satuday as of 10:00 he is dead) here is that letter...
Dear Uncle,

It has been a long time since I have really sat down to write you, I was thinking about that today before I went to chapel and realized I had to remedy that situation. I can figure why it has been so long since I have written you and in the next few paragraphs I would like to expound on that and also apologize.

Hearing of your illness struck me to the heart. I have been thinking today of our relationship, you were the first one to discuss with me the hypothesis in the order of the writing of the gospels. I know that sounds trite but it helps me understand our relationship better. I have always looked up to you as a preacher and even as a scholar. You have a deep and personal knowledge of scripture that can be seen in the way you live your life, but even more so in the way you deal with your illness.

From what I have seen you savor life as a gift from God and with strength you take what comes to you. I have always looked up to you for that trait. I realized while talking to grandmother today for the first time how important you are to me, and how much support you have always given me. When I went to graduate school you applauded me and when I went into ministry you gave me monetary support. For the first time today I have accepted that you aren’t well. In words I have always prayed for you, but this morning my soul cried out to God for you. Today was the first time I asked someone else to pray for you, and while I was doing it I realized why it had taken me so long. I didn’t want to accept that someday you won’t be here. I love you Uncle, you and grandma have been the biggest influences in my life in ministry, but you alone I have identified with the most. As I told your situation in chapel today I began to cry. All the sudden my past few months rushed back into my head. I apologize for my neglect to thank you more often, and also for my neglect to pray for you. I was scared, because once I started praying for you I knew that I had to really believe what is happening.

Thank you for all the support you have given me. I love you Uncle.

God Bless you

Justin M McCreary

Friday, January 10, 2003

I never really fiddled with prose much but I figure why not:

Gaydon looked at her, his eyes never blinking and his mouth never drier. He worked the courage up and up again but the words never left his mouth. As Cheryl looked at him with eyes that declared confusion so deep that no maxim could explain her the truth. It was all Gaydon could do to spit out the phrase, “What if anything is your hearts desire?”
Coming from Gaydon this was not an odd statement. He was often pictured as a thinker and his conversation on more than one occasion had caused a stir as these friends would sit around their lunch table. With a laugh Cheryl simply replied, “true love.” Gaydon had to fight to keep his expression from changing to drastically, he had to keep the air that he was above all answers and that he understood everything. At no cost could he lose his image, the image of a wiseman. If only Gaydon knew, he was the only one who saw his self this way. With a forced chuckle, to hide his nervousness, Gaydon remained without word. Then Cheryl smiled at him, quoting Hanible Lector in the Silence of the Lambs Quid pro quo, what of you?
There were a thousand things Gaydon wanted to reply with, one thousand bold statements that would declare his love, one thousand statements that would make her melt into his arms. But what if she felt different, what if she laughed? Gaydon in his had had formulated a statement that could say just enough to get her to inquire deeper but still hid his truest feelings. “Salvation from guilt.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Cheryl asked with a smirk, “sounds more like a cop-out to me.” Rushing into Gaydon like balefire came a flood of responses, but nothing to really explain what he meant. Gaydon had over intellectualized his self. Because of that there was no reply he could make that would answer her question without saying too much.
“Just that,” Gaydon hesitated, “It is hard to say everything I want to say when…” and he trailed off. Cheryl perked up but Gaydon faded away and walked back to his dorm finishing the phrase in his head. “It is hard to say everything I want to say when I stare into eyes so innocent when my soul is so dirty.”