Alabama Nova

Once again cars sped down the highway. The morning air left nothing more than the remants of laughter and old photographs in my memory. Having taken too many friendships for granted all that embodys what seems to be an epiphanal moment is the humming of cars and the crooning of mountain goats. Too little has gone into the thinking and planning of such great exploits whilst a somber mass gets entangled in there own narcissism. To think one day there will be an end to speculation hopes and dreams returning into pastel symphonies delight and wonder. Until now all that has ever seemed to hinge on sincerity is that of an unseen promise. Undone merely by emotional chemistry and pseudo-Shakespearean thoughts, embracing the uncreated becomes a daunting task overwhelming even the slightest of inquiries. To stand at one moment a drooling mess humbled by brilliant sovreignty then to indulge the inner crave into the depths od distraction is a battle that is often lost more times than won. To speak of futures, smiles, hopes, dreams, blood, redemption, laughter, love, trauma, conquest, romance, eyes, smiles, family, friendship, and above all God seem weighed down by the gnawing remnants of what some may even ascribe to be some sort of attention deficit. Long gone seem the days of running through fields and chasing fireflies, trips to Nostalgia land are the best with dear friends though, but in comes the final stare into the world of growing up. Surrounded by maturity and adults the threshold of accomplishment and almost meaning seems like something that has in some places been assumed where as the status quo remains in the subtle monotony of the nuances of anything but. Letting go of many things hails flickering promises yet love feels to command towards the obliteration of all the destroys. Don't get me wrong, I hate sin, I hate my sin passionately. I long for the kingdom to come, I long for the day expression is not only limited to the same old set redone and reworked except even now there may be a techno beat thrown in. I look forward with expectation the day all things are made new. Running with a pack who at one time held vigilantism in their veins, the days draws near in which lines are drawn and bravery, heroism, love, and humility pour forth like perfume and pieces of glass towards a throne. Until then, may we behold and bless, transformation beckons stronger than the steel that binds Optimus Prime's machismo together. Dawn came a couple of hours ago, yet another painting I'm sure God must have put in His scrapbook. In retrospect this entry is nothing more than sporadic conjecture, time moves on and God is good. The times they are a changin' my friend.