Thankful

From the sounds and screams  
And when I walked with infantry  
For the wounds were hidden deep  

The enemy still inside my head  
 Combats ghosts and I were repatriated  
And conflict was  contantly updated  
 
For that prayer you came to answer  
Brought some solace to that cancer  
The nightmares vivid and now lesser  
 
Comradeship to share that crutch  
Reduce the depths, and curse lifes muck  
Find the bridge of hope and trust  
 
Glimmer hope like your favorite chocolate bars  
Just small steps towards the stars  
Treats like wishes granted and not marred  
 
The missing limbs a balance of befriending  
The broken mind the fragile egg to tend  
Integrity the golden time that mends  
 
 Chains and shackle fall like comets tail  
The thankful power under their own sail  
The winds that universal understanding trail
 
Secret Santa presents, thankfulness and help
Wrapped with love to regain my full health
The ultruism not bought off the shelf

To the multiplayers  
in my poetic game of life
 
Thanks is never enough
Caught with you
salt
in my strife
 
Raggedly
angry

I try to be tough
These days I don't know how  
to shut my shout up

Thanks for the ear to my  
 loudmouth  
battle-bitch cry

Choice has come in it’s comforting results.
On the coldest morning myself is taken to the warm hot waters of a personal shower.
Daily sermons speak from an iPhone.
Thoughts of wrongs don’t stand a chance.
The grateful talks continue through prayer.
Just when you thought there were no more answers it’s been written and said.
Bring me alive said to the parts once dead.
Even in trying life can be lived through him.
I stand.
I sit.
I lay grateful.

Father.
  I enter the word
      whitening in moonlight.

A glimmer,
you are still electric
in wordless theory
    where you evoked me
and I collapsed into you.

Crater of reception
falling out of Night's cricket songs;
    shredded body of love.

Tempest,
 Father whom I fell into,
   where you held a cave for me
 deeper than blackest vastness
   of furthest sky.

Every star is yours,
oh Mother,
where I grew, expanding, extracting
within his grasp.

    Teach me how to speak
       this way,
    this limitless way.

In this crater of stars,
   I evolved from ruin,
Oh Father,
Oh Mother,
          yours.

       .....

To be alive isn't just to be alive and kicking
feeling your own legs and limbs.
To be alive is to
percieve the sights and sounds
that those who have kicked the bucket can't appreciate
until resurrection and  the long wait for heaven's gate
 
God's most precious gift to us  
Is life which He breathed into our souls.
 
But to be alive is to thaw
the frozen cold heart
with the warmth of feeling
coz we aren't born coldblooded.
 
Alive is
the sense of hearing  
that hearkens not just the artificial violin
but the natural songbird's birdsong.
To see not just the obvious, the apparent
but as well to see with the eyes of wisdom.
To not just gaze at silver screens and the telly all day
But rather to gaze and observe all of nature's
sights and scenery around you,
 
To feel not just your own skin,
to not spend life touching cellphones  
but rather employ the sense of touch
to feel petals and other critters.
To be alive isn't to smell your own breath and sweat
but to inhale all the distinct fragrances of nature.
And to taste not merely of the artificial flavors
of fizzy pale poison refined sugar's sodas
but to cup your hands to taste the raindrop!
 
Do I in anyway imply by this that those born blind, deaf or dumb are less alive?
Never! For I've seen the blind appreciate
divinely created nature far more than the seeing.
For to the blind every sound is precious,  
for every voice they are grateful.
And every touch has meaning...
 
Be alive with all your God given senses
Don't wait to be deprived of even one,
to appreciate them.
For senses like limbs, freeze and can get impaired  
when they're in limbo, not in usage.
God created this world for our toil and to appreciate life as a divine present,  
We must thank Him for granting us existence  
so we deserve the next life in heaven.