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Adventure by Ollie

A Search for Purpose in a Random World

Month

August 2015

Breathing In

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It is touchingly strange

the way I manage this dust.

I am just a maid cleaning out the temple:

stepping barefooted

on cold gray marble;

but now I’m breathing in the incense

as God breathes.

Inter-mingling curls of gray;

my sweat drips down –

makes dirt of the dust

and the smoke-filled words

stretch with longing,

lift upwards and through the

thin veil

becoming part of

another.

The fragrance in the You

has become

the fragrance in the Me;

making twins of

lungs, heart, soul

down to the cell work

(just sweeping work)

managing dust.

Stray Parts

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Her hair flowed

full of abandon;

a flag of her nation,

joyful; in complete surrender –

allowing the wind to possess all.

Refusing the hand’s desire

to tame any

stray parts,

she collected all,

setting her face to the wind,

and smiled freely.

 

 

 

New Skin

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God is breaking promises

walking in and out of orchard

on legs of marble

plays behind curtains

unseen

while my hands and feet

seek blindly

trusting and betrayed

 

feel the cool ground beneath me

wander meekly

in and out of orchard

groping  for the fruit of

healing

 

while God

walking in and out of orchard

on flesh and bone legs

naked

and unashamed

in the garden

tending

tender the fingers

but firm

moves his strong hand

against my thigh

grows in me

new skin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

grape vine

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hear a whisper moving through the trees

gossiping  green the grape vine

bending heavily beneath the breeze

gossiping green the grape vine

one man walks sure-footed

left then right

holds his head up high

confidently

another stumbles slower

from shadow to shadow

and the breeze moves in the trees

gossiping green the grape vine

Spaces In Between

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Filling up the spaces in between here and there,

a wealth of empty spaces full of air

and I’m running, through all the wondering,

wandering free.

Freedom can be scary – having no place to rest

flitting from one to another, which is best?

Nothing feels right;

too large and too tight,

so I’m wandering free.

Watching others touch down, find a place to fit.

Perhaps it’s an instinct? Something I have missed.

I keep running, searching and  wondering,

wandering free.

 

 

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