Advertisement
Bringing people together in love and faith
My Blog
Blogs > sabrefire45 > The Midnight Ocean > Oct 11, 2008
The Midnight Ocean
  
Reflections, Poetry, and Prose from the depths of the Midnight Ocean.
Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD;
O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy. Psalm 130
Behold, the days come, saith the LORD, that I will make a new covenant. After those days, saith the LORD,
I will put my law in their inwards parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God,
and they shall be my people. Jeremiah 31:31-33
Wherefore the law is holy, and the Commandment Holy, and just, and good. Rom7:12
Sifatai tiftach- u'fi yagid- tehilatecha!
- If I open my lips- let my mouth- declare Your praise!
Title View |
Posts on 10/11View All
100 THINGS YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT ME Oct 11, 2008 11:34 pm
343 Views


Looking back now over the photo's taken for my High School graduation...I find myself staring into the eyes of that individual whose face seems almost foreign to me. Who was he? ? How have I changed?
I know most would go for those old standbys, like wisdom, and the other various virtues thought to be acquired with time spent here in life. I dunno, that's not quite satisfying to me.
I already see a rather wise person there, comparatively. I do, see a good person. Certainly a more exuberant person. Someone with a spark and a hope for potential in this world. Even at 18, I see a man. But not this man. I wish I could easily say that I see someone lesser than my present self. But that's also too easy and trite.
Do I see someone who was about to bloom into something presumably greater?
One- climbing an earthen ladder of money, power, and circumstance...with a pinch of pomp thrown in?
I'm sorry I do not see that, no matter how hard I try to conjure the image. I just see a remnant... of me. Which is a most bizarre thing in and of itself, a 'remnant' occupying the past rather than the future. But it's true.
I see me, but I don't recognize me. I see someone who knew he had great potential. Someone who held many school offices, and could accomplish what he set his mind to. Someone with unusual clout as a teenager, because of some glimmer of congeniality mixed with a dash of brains. Him there with his family behind him...a golden boy, about to strike it rich. I see someone in love...and with heavy ideals. Someone without compromise. Someone with a heavy fist for whom dared threaten; and no shortage of occasion to use it. Yes, I do indeed see a man- albeit a young one. A tough man, quick to anger and easy to provoke, as young men often are. An intrepid pugilist, a senior class president, a perpetual honor student, and an athlete. But definitely a fighter, so long as what he fought for- was right, in his eyes. Someone who could- like my father and many a forefather before him- probably walk through military boot camp; and ask for some more. "Gung Ho; here we go!"
(Grandpa???)

I don't see me.
I am now wiser. But I am also tougher. But, I don't have that certain moxy, I once did. The unwavering "don't tread on me- and mine," mentality. I don't have the SAME glint in my eye any longer. I'm smarter, stronger, infinitely more knowledgeable, and supposedly more marketable. I'm better in every way except for perhaps the weight of the accrued moss, of added years (lol). But my eyes in photos these days- appear sometimes as a sullen depiction of what once was. Why?
I could conjecture, but would it change anything? I doubt so.
Blessed are the ignorant for depth they'll never know.

It seems people have from the beginning of remembrance told me I am 'special' in some way or another. Mostly, since I became grown, they could not ever quite place their finger on what it was that made me 'special.' Perhaps as I grew, so did the esoteric nature... of my nature. I never really wanted to be so much different, as I simply wanted to be seen, somehow. And when I was occasionally lumped into 'the normal,' I found the pressure of the facade to be far to weighty to carry on much with. I knew, or so I thought I knew, what they were talking about, it's just that no one could ever could explain to me fully what I already knew. I was, an yet am, an enigma. That's a profound and solitary/lonely feeling for a child to grasp; and it has no doubt helped mold my persona, today. Good or bad. But I couldn't anymore apologize for it, as the I could for my paternity, or color of skin. It just is.
I don't know either when it was that I left this road less traveled- and began to blaze my very own trail. Painstakingly attempting to chop down each massive tree on a slow and tedious course. Not the trees of professional hierarchy. Or the trees of tax brackets. But rather- those of a spiritual wilderness. I chopped the dead trees, I thought, to make way for the living. And I learned it all from reading the Word of G-d. Suddenly, I cared less about whether or not someone could explain to me what separated me, from those I wished to call friends. I began to take shape on its own. And it began to matter less and less whether or not anyone could see it.
I've been as broken as the 'trees' in my wake. Yet I clamor on through the tragic worry of the world, hoping someday a woman too might see its arrangement as akin to the beauty of a floral bouquet of the finest array.
I don't give her first, roses of vibrant color for adornment; I offer instead slain piles of withered and thorny overgrowth...so that one day we may burn them together. And rejoice. So that our hearts passion might burn together likewise for an altogether different reason.
Who is this women that will someday see this?

If a tree falls in a spiritual desert -and there is not a maiden to hear it, does it make a sound?
The answer is yes. G-d hears it. And the maiden is G-d's child whose heart, truth is written upon, by the very hand of G-d.
I certainly didn't strike it rich quite yet...but I did...struck it rich. I certainly have this one thing. This peculiar thing many have not.
I see my old acquaintances rushing by on the secular-highway of life- and feel their stares and confoundment at my wayward sight and trail, even some of my family. Indeed I'm so far into my own way- that they barely can see my position any longer. I am...me.
No man understands me. Not my mother, father, sister or brother.
No one, I know, could possibly understand the depths of my soul.
No one, but my G-d, or the beating heart of Christ, by which the hands of my internal spiritual clock is seemingly wound.
For this reason I find, when I look back at myself those years ago- I want to embrace myself before the curve balls come sliding in low and out. Before I knew, that I'd firmly choose a sometimes painful life, of attempted devotion, before One G-d... and innumerable unbelieving naysayers. And years of staring at the stars without much consolation, while sailing upon a midnight ocean.
But, I want me then, to see me now. I want a 'transcendent mirror' to peer into- so as to be able to speak to the me of old.
I know we could learn great things from one another.
I want to stare into his eyes and not even say a word. I want him at 18 to read my eyes at 27.
What would he see?
I have an idea. I do after all have the peculiar knowledge of both of their most delicate and intimate of thoughts.
He at 18 would see rage in me now far outside teenage angst... depth of soul, and an incredibly strong willed man, in a entirely different sense. He who was, would see a Priest, a teacher, and a poet who is. He would see one once crushed in spirit, so that he may live.
I wonder then, would he see his own 18yro person as becoming dead then, staring into the eyes of the new creature that now is? How frightening a thought.
I was always a Believer. Always saved I believe. But certain aspects of spirit I believe require at base, a slide rule to calculate.

And he would not see a glint of hope for his place in the world; but rather a consuming fire for His Peoples place in this world, which is not his home. I think I would frighten him to the core- he, who thought himself near unshakable.
He a young flame, beholding his future self- a broad and consuming Fire which burns- but does not consume him, like it did then.
Even if it were possible- I would not go back to then, even knowing what I do now. I would not wish to bear the years again. I could not surrender the smell of divinity that has been acquired by years and toil hard-wrought. The essence of the Divine gaining as one nears eternity. Even if I could bear them again, I would likely then scorch and burn fully that which only required warmth. The path would be obscured by char. So, doubtful the road could lead so clearly to destiny as it should. He- who was before me, even myself at 18, despite his arrogance's and foolishness, is the lone man whom could have led me mightily into this path that was to become the greater me. Through many battles, and some suburban hardship, he tarried, toiled and by his Lord's Mighty arm, won himself a new heart. And even was bestowed a love of Wisdom of the ancient time, through the Word.
Yet with wisdom has come a great sense of insufferablity. And it has developed into a certain intolerance to the peculiar flavor of worldly silliness's; for this I believe is something only the wise do actually know.
Intolerance to what can rightly be called... life on earth. Intolerance to even, oneself.
Tolerance is mostly a forced virtue, foreign to man. I, myself yet am only a casual partaker of many a storied virtue.
Either way, I ask, would he who was me, back then- admire me now?
The unalterable child yet inside me says, 'yes.'
A greater question is, would he be better for beholding my eyes?
Chillingly, I must say 'yes,' as well, he would. Despite that he could not have beheld me without knowing himself soon to die, by comparison.
And if I could offer only one sentence to him, and all of you, I give you this:
Hebrew 12:28 Wherefore we receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear:
29 FOR OUR GOD IS A CONSUMING FIRE.
From glint to a Fire for G-d.
GB!
sabrefire

Copyright 10/10/2008
12 Comments
GIRL WITHOUT A NAME, AND, OVER AND OVER Oct 11, 2008 6:45 pm
401 Views
So, here's two different...well, I think they're more songs then poems, maybe(?). Anyways, if you don't like one, then maybe you'll like the other...
Thanks for reading anywayl; and GBY!



GIRL WITHOUT A NAME

You came up,
and I asked you your name,
but you just winked...
and then you walked away.
But, I'm still here-
and I'm stumbling, around now-
lookin for a girl- without- a name.
So these days I'm searching all around
for just one more- glimpse- at you.
I'm wishin so hard
cuz my mind's in a knot,
and she doesn't even know my name,
But, tonite I'm gonna see you,
I'll be flying in the deep blue,
tonight I reserve my dreams for two
I wish I could tell you, because it's true,
I'm flying way up here for you.
Nice to meet you!
Have you heard that before?
This time it's true,
don't you know me?
I'm your prince
and here's my crown,
I'm your jester and your clown,
I'm who-ever...
you want me to be,
just like you wanted me to be,
you silly beautiful darling...
forget about the past,
Tonight I'll know your name at last.

Copyright © MAS 10/10/2008

And one more for good measure!

OVER AND OVER

5am and I-96/
I'm flyin down the freeway way too fast/
puttin the past in the past/
stealin the sun's glory/
but darkness won't last/
path to her house /
patience fading fast./
i'm playin crimson and clover/
over and over/
hours to go but it's finally the day/
together at last/
we'll put the past in the past/
and it can't happen too fast.

Zoom zoom /
burnin through a tank of gas/
cell phone rings/
bling bling/
news travels fast/
aint got long now/
beating traffic on the way
/make it by evening I pray/
rain clouds hit the tip/
minutes still to go but finally the hour is here/
to embrace my most dear/
crimson and clover /
playin over and over

Highway 103 exit B/
brake for construction and make the connection/
butterflies start arrivin/
vroom vroom I keep on flying/
I missed her street/
go once around the block/
lump in my throat's like a rock/
time's up- future's- here and now
the surreal hits me POW!/
walk to the door leave the past in the past/
can't believe I'm here at last/
put my ear to her door
& I hear crimson and clover/
playin over and over!

It sings "now I don't hardly know her,/
but I think I could love her,/
crimson and clover.../
she come's walking over,/
I'm waiting to show her,
/crimson and clover,/
over and over,/
my girl's such a sweet thing,/
/ what a beautiful feeling,
/ crimson and clover,
/ over and over."

GBY,
sabrefire

Copyright © MAS 10/11/2008
24 Comments
 

To link to this blog (sabrefire45) use [blog sabrefire45] in your messages.
28 M
Guidelines
October 2008
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
      1
1
2
  		3
1
4
 
5
  		6
1
7
1
8
  		9
  		10
  		11
2
12
  		13
1
14
  		15
1
16
  		17
  		18
1
19
  		20
1
21
  		22
  		23
1
24
  		25
 
26
  		27
  		28
  		29
1
30
  		31
  		 

Recent Visitors
VisitorAgeSexDate
Yosefa 43F1/9
Claudia_T 51F1/9
honest35200037F1/9
heidivb24 23F1/9
thedrifter 62M1/8
spbpt 56F1/8
Charity53076 32F1/8
Exodus1559F1/7
Dilta45F1/6
sodterea 31F1/4
Most Recent Comments by Others
PostPosterPost Date
HOW I STOLE TIME...Claudia_TJan 9 9:49 am
TODAY!honest352000Jan 9 6:05 am
I HATE MY LIFEsabrefire45Jan 4 5:16 pm
APPLE OF HIS EYE...sabrefire45Jan 4 3:04 pm
DEADBEATS!sabrefire45Jan 1 7:29 pm
MY HONEYMOONsabrefire45Dec 31 11:48 pm
WHAT ABOUT YOU???sabrefire45Dec 29 1:50 am
The FirePostsabrefire45Dec 26 2:23 pm
DO YOU EVEN WANT TO BE HEALED???????sabrefire45Dec 18 10:49 pm
SO, THIS IS LIFE...???sabrefire45Dec 18 9:05 pm
ARE U A FOUNTAIN OF LIGHT???sabrefire45Dec 16 2:06 am