God's Dynamic Origins

Let me draw a picture of a wave of God's hand! We need to get into astronomy for this. Man now can explore 200-million light-years into space- This is by all means phenomenal in its own right! And things we said were impossible yesterday, are By and large, standard today. Space is a lot of black matter, black energy. Old news! Space is made out of something, so let's call it fabric. In space there are ripples in the fabric, like a woman's skirt! Thus comes into place space & time, What causes the ripples? Some say, cosmic events like exploding stars, which are often called supernovas- (this bulk of mass moving is the object that creates the wave) When this happens, everything spreads outwards, at the fastest speed known to man, which is the speed of light (187,000 miles per second) Thus, we see the flash of this event: Man's detectors can detect this of course, and we theorize the merging of black holes with these neutron stars. So now we know there was an event, and the ripples are coming-and we see this among the many galaxies within that radius of 200-million light-years!

The Blood-Stained Banner:
I write about how the violence and injustice in America continues to stain the image of America. In America we look for freedom and justice regardless of our race or color. We expect to be treated with dignity and fairness. I believe that the recent violence and injustice is slowly destroying the image of America. We are headed backward instead of forward.

With Feet In The Furnace, Rushing Water In His Voice:
Could you even begin to imagine the excruciating pain? Yet there is no denying the fact as you can hear it in his trembling voice. The cool sound of rushing water, valiant attempts to subdue and quell, overcome, stifle and extinguish the murder and the mayhem the guillotine, break down all of the vice but you know as well as I do it has been forming up through all of these years no vessel craft or ship, no pontoon raft or skiff could ever control our ceaseless flow of tears.

Pay Attention As A Light Shining In A Dark Place, The Day Dawns, Morning Star Rises In Your Hearts:
In darkened spaces, illuminated faces escaping despicable traces that may come to play unwanted tricks, practical jokes deception, fraud, ploys and scams all of them an illusion, a caper, a swindle, a ruse. But let it shine as the light may enter the night, dark shadows in rising hearts, morning stars just before the dawn as there are lasting places that may bring dragon boat races to a radiant sun.

Each Had A Harp And Golden Bowls of Incense As They Sang Sad Songs To The Saints:
Black tar, golden resin, it is the toughest stuff that you can find on earth. Yet there are many ways that you can break it down, just look for the misery before you tell me what it is worth. Find it anywhere, under a rock, beneath a pebble, in the yard, on the road. With bowls of red spice, cinnamon and harps in their hand kind fairies will do their best to give you your kicks and sing for you, let them ramble as they meander, chatter, waffle and snore.

Five Poems (The Mirror of the Truth, Monsters, Eschatological Regression and Others):
The Mirror of the Truth - A bleeding cloud envisioned into the mirror of a water-eye is like a face losing its lines, or like a flower withering in a falling field. The wind developing breasts among three limbs of a tree is like an ancient, African, tribal woman dancing in a wedding ceremony, while seeking for cheerfulness. In reality, there are only a cloud nascent to rain, an eye opening to peek the luminousness, and a tree fighting to save its own flowers. Due to the mirrors, everything looks like being always complete, but this exhaustiveness can be real or not. In the mirror of the aqua, never the sky can be itself, and never its pearls can be extant. In the mirror of a lie, maybe the truth looks like verity, nevertheless it may never be a certainty. But, in the Holy mirror, The Lord is human and the human being is divine, and our hearts can be candles lightning love for our Lord.

Writing Poetry:
The art of poetry writing is very old. With the passage of time, it has undergone several changes. Nevertheless, there was something always constant!