The Old Man and the wooden fortress (Poems to the Creator)) Part One, Three Poems))

I walked the back alleys of the world;

fought in his wars -

the wind drives me always

from my back,

but the old man never

Let me vanish from his memory

(Only in the eyes)

- He showed me the cross

From time to time:

The only son of his hanging.

It seems I had more life

as a cat, often

Live like a rat;

but over the years I have

learned a thing or two,

that he always

beennear, if not there,

especially when I have nothing

left - that is, if he meant

Fortress ... made of wood!

Note: Wood absorbs impact sheets, even as a camel has, in the water to feed it during the winter months. A fortress is a fortress, one that protects you in my life time, the old man was this fortress (with his son and the comfort and power of his Holy Spirit, and I thank them all). # 1861 01/06/2007 (done in a spontaneous poetic prose)

(Waiting:)

Cross the River

Mom's been dead, is now four years

Aunt Rose, maybe two;

Uncle Wally died only recently,

And I am pushing sixty,

I will soon cross the river!

Time is going fast, that's for sure,

Like a crackling in a fire;

We have heard, but rarely remembered

Here on earth, my friends:

We cross the river soon!

Little by little - we all make the banks

(So I'm told, and believe)

From the Earth to the clay Iaccept

That's how I came, as I leave:

Wait and hope to see

The Saviour of the Cross:

Waiting for the river banks

To see who to cross.

Note: Life is short at best, maybe if we live to the fullest, it is enough of this earth. But if we can think it, it is very likely to consider it positive that something beyond this life, it seems, and how my mother once said: "Everyone thinks they go to heaven, where havethey get the idea? ". I never answered her question was rhetorical, and it is out of sight, so, out of mind And she said," Aunt Betty says she'll ask to wait until her last days. the Lord for help ... what do you do think they will have time "Again, I did not answer, a rhetorical question, that is, we really do not have much control over death (maybe a little), and certainly not if we make it to the shore. # 1860 06/01/2007 (Done in a spontaneous poetic prose)

Only aPoor Boy

You're just a poor boy - from Minnesota,

That's what they meant and implied

About me, back in '84:

"Why would Jesus stretched out his hand to you?"

(It was noticeable, it could see in his fog -

a miracle, oh yes)) but he did it)).

I could not answer at that time

(Who could? Also, now)

But my mother said:

"They all are upset!"

# 1864 01/06/2007 (Done in a spontaneous poetic prose), the question was: "Why has the Lord appearme, "a bad boy, then (in the 60s and 70s to maybe 83). Maybe because I was weaker than the good and true, and I needed what he provided. I can not answer such a question I wrote the book "The Last Trumpet" and it had to time with lots of visual wonder that while. If there is something done, it did me, there is another world beyond our view, a world that is waiting.

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