Tuesday, February 26, 2008

A Brief Statement on Words

A confession in a prudent time awakens the dormant and even at times the dying. What do we stand on except for that of words and the Word itself. Our composition is based entirely of the word of One’s power sustaining all things. They flow in and out of the cognition of the comatose and the mentally ill as they do the brilliant and the quick witted, reception holds another story. The unlocking of identity and authority of love and even depression hinge on these entities. The make up of a freer sect of breeds the modern elitist. This is our war. They fly around us as wordsmiths and spin doctors alike hold the leash by which we in this land have come out of the womb with. Though wrapped around our neck the freedom is by no means and easy anecdote. One man’s leash is another man’s noose and the reigns tighten by the day.
Oh, what sweet freedom we find in the words that still and quiet our souls. The Word that towers above the need of answers or even explanation this alone is our salvation. The mercenaries of other ages have lauded over the status quo rendering the situation as one of a mess. There have always been renegades and always rebels. The funky one are the only ones worth noting anymore it seems. The brilliant man truly is toppled. An exasperation throws away the sequences of order and logic and the heart gnaws away for the pain of the indescribable. The reign they hold over us, these masters, these words, either to brighten the eye or to depress the mouth. The expanse of longing for these establish us as who we are. The poetic romantic scraping off the demagogues inaugural address. Tools that mold that manipulate that build and that confront.
Like a starting gun to a firing squad to the trigger to the charismatic, the word “Fire” holds the keys to life and death. Four letters, on syllable, and a handful of connotations. Yet this is just one of a plethora of terms in our common vocabulary and at times graze on the border of redundancy. We grope for meaning and find it not. We speak calling things forth sputtering into a needless collapse. Our treaties are but dust and are worth just as much often as the paper it was written on. Unmarked Native American graves are our testament.
It became flesh, skin, bone, uvula, the whole works. It dwelt among us and was surrounded by noise, clamoring, grunts, moans, pants, screams, cries, and various and assorted syllables. In this regiment of things He upheld, created, saw, felt, and expressed himself through He lived. Yet He was known not. He who is life, the Creator and sustainer of all things became flesh and died allowing us to be one with him. There are those whose words do not fall to the ground and that is because it is in fact not mere chattering but the very Word of God. Logos in audible form, proceeding from a broken and contrite human being. This is love that we may become one with Him. So in turn may we depart and flee from the messes and meditations of men and commune with the eternal Excellence and bring him forth to abide within freeing us from the noose of the echoes of emptiness that the princes of the air mutters before they fade into nothing. Eat the scroll. Consume the word. Feast on the Lord and life, and love, and light will abound.





With this I hope to return to the blogging world