Clean; Hold On

He told me I was clean,
which was nice,
but didn't quite ring true.
I said okay,
and we hung out and laughed
when I noticed his joy was real.
I saw real compassion in his eyes
when our buddy was having trouble,
and the words of comfort he spoke
were unbiased and beautiful.
I saw he didn't care what he
sounded like when he sang.
He would try and fail at the most foolish of things and our
raucous laughter wouldn't bother him a bit.
When he took on the serious things and succeeded
he wouldn't stand for adoration or praise.
I saw him go undiscouraged in the face of wraith, anger, and dissapointment.
I saw he was unmoved by people around him, but deeply moved by something within him.
I saw him return to this center again and again,
and envied steady balance.
I asked him what he had that I did not.
He replied
'like I said: you're clean.'



    I saw my faith as a fledgling bird, recently hatched, still wet and featherless, and rather than being discouraged I was motivated. Grateful for the place I find myself, proud to have made it here (not by my own strength) and sure that I'm in the perfect place because I'm living out the course of things. I'm in the way; On the way. The road is narrow, sure, but growing as I am in perception, so too does this narrow road. It's an easy dwelling, an easy path. The obstacles we seem to forever fight are just thoughts and methods we've accepted, using them to form our safehouses. We're generally resistant to anything that makes us feel insecure.
    But holding onto anything in a vanishing world, a place of dust and discord, is a vain project from the onset. So I store up my treasures in heaven. What does this mean? How do I earn, take hold of, inherit treasures in heaven? How do I do so on earth? I increase to inherit. By practice, understanding, and the implementation of the life I've heard of, my father sees fit to give me a greater domain. I prove faithful, and am proven faithful, so a deserving receptacle to all good things. So it is in the heavenlies. I implement and practice my patience, my love, my worship. By earthly dedication and sanctification of my time and resources to my father, I have less reserved for me on earth and am showing my father my practice of his works in what I've been given. So I maintain my things, I am aware of my comings and goings, I enrich and build up, I hear and receive, I offer, submit, and relay the words of God to those I'm directed.
I Am, as He Is.
I live, as He lives, and I increase.
The things I store up for myself are a practice in maintaining the heaven of this life.
   I need to be more specific, find more specifics. Indulge me, Father. I seek you. Please pour out on me. Within my heart, in my ears and before my eyes is my spirit. The energetic, ever-motion of light and rumination. A powerful, concordant(?) battery in tune with my father. The spirit doesn't run low;  when I am poor in spirit I get a charge, a tap, from one who Has The Power.
   This battery powers my body, but more than that it powers the Life within me. I can still run on low power, but life is narrow, seca, sucked dry of anything good. It's withered and bare-bones. I'd rather have a tired body and be full of ruminations, be slow and still but on fire inside for the glory and profundity (?) of the works of God.
   So glow. I can do this. I do this. It's my life, moving by the spirit. I can ask for anything I need, I can make the calls I need to make, I can say the things I need to say and be unafraid because What have I to lose? Nahthin.