One day I’ll wake up—
And never sleep again.
One day I’ll sing—
And break forth into angels’ anthems.
One day I will run—
And never grow weary.
One day I will laugh—
And never cry again.
One day I will wade in a river—
The River of Life.
One day I will sing praises—
And truly sin no more.
One day I will cast my crowns before the throne—
The throne of God.
One day I will hear clapping thunder and many voices, and see flashing lightning and radiant beauty—
The glory of Yahweh Himself.

Theism had a critical influence on America’s development of law, government, and culture. America’s beginnings, under the King George III’s heavy hand of tyranny, gave birth to patriots who worked hard, sacrificed much, and held liberty dear. They valued a form of government that fit with this mindset. This form of government and culture was, as John Adams said, “made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate for the government of any other.”

Sometimes my brain has run out of dreams
I’m useless, spent, worn out
I must have been a big mistake
My life—an empty tale.
Living on the edge of a mountain
It looks too dark to move
The goals I fancied as my dreams
Lie chained on the other side.
I cannot free them, let them fly
This mountain blocks my way
It darkens the path before, behind
Hopelessness closes in.
Dreams have spilled out through the holes
In the pottery of my life
I’m a broken vessel—what can I do

This life is like a road we walk,
And as we walk along we talk
Of unseen things and things above,
Of things below like hate and love.
But hate and love are heav'nly, too;
My God hates sin; I do, do you?
Do you show love along the way,
Make sacrifices every day?
For that is love; you'll see, 'tis true,
God loved the world, and me, and you
Enough to give His only Son,
He ransomed every chosen one.
He died on the cross:
Suffered pain, not loss,
To hold us and keep us,
To save us, redeem us.

Tip-tip-tip over
Bowled like the stark white of a pin
Those two red lines
Wrap around my cheeks
Smudge between my eyebrows
say I'll never win
You are claustrophobic
Cloying
To my skin and hair and heart
A high-stakes perfume
A magnanimous plume
Of smoke
Rising from the hearth
I choke
On it in forests clear and bright
Cedarwood and sparkling night
The atmosphere is starved
For wanting you
And at times it seems that's all
I'm meant to do
For in the quiet of a class

Staring blankly into the starlight
Yearningly, longingly, tearfully.
Watching the moon meander ‘cross the sky,
I’m thinking and dreaming of you.

Insomnia’s got a hold on me
ADD’s been hounding me
My brain is playing tricks on me
Sweating, striving, pushing.

You’re there—I know you’re there
But who are you, which one?
Darkness shrouds my forward vision
I squint—and stare in vain.

I’m waiting for you
to show your hand
Will you hold
or will you fold?
Don’t you know
you can’t play the game
with fire red,
and coal black,
both in your hands?
I’m bleeding,
red,
diamond-shaped tears.
I can’t win
For you always hold
the upper hand:
a flushing red
of my beating heart.
It isn’t fair
to leave me holding
onto only blackness.
Don’t you know?
I could beat you
with such a hand as this,
but I found
that I don’t want to

Your frayed edges
have combed
knots
into the contours
of my stomach
You know

My mind has spiraled out
in fifteen
clouded directions
my skin has blossomed with
hundreds of
unwashed revelations
You hear

Force those words into
Your ear
they'll echo before they
ricochet
against your skull
you're tall
I fear

Sunshine soaks
every single
surface
of
this life
I can attest
that it is
even there
at night
gleaming from
behind the moon
reflected in
condensation
refracted through
stained glass
winking at
precipitation
I become

a sponge
when I spot it
from the corner of
my eye
I slather it on
my pale forearms
and smile as I
sigh
it enters and it

Sometimes I ponder and I wonder why
A woman who's blessed tears up to cry
And then I remember her eyes so gentle
Feeling so deeply she loves not a little

Her life is a beautiful poem
Her heart is intricately woven
Her God-given life a sacrifice of love;
Her soul made of beauty given from above

Remember her tear; needed; 'tis true
It's a privilege if shared with you
Her sorrows are all yours now, as are her joys
Her heart is in your hands, your love it employs