Boy with red Cheeks

Just a little boy with red cheeks

whose days are spent with a flock of sheep,

Small in size but great at heart

his song with the strings fills the air

with the fragrance of free-spirited sound.

The hills, the mountains and valleys know

that a young man with red chicks 

revives them with the sound of song

with words that go far and beyond.

who has heard the song

at whose sound spirits are stilled,

the song that resounds in the souls

of prophesied royal descendants?

Who has heard the voice 

of a shepherd watching over his flock,

deeply waiting on greater things to come;

the voice so tender and blessed

it's blessing flies in time

to touch generations beyond the eye

with words instilled from above?

Who has seen the hands

that gently sleep on the harp

with the sound of tranquility and peace,

the hands that sought no praise

but take pleasure in service?

Yes, the very hands

that tore the bear apart

and defeated the lion in field.

Nobody has seen

and nobody has known 

that a mighty heart dwells among us,

veiled by age and size

and humbled by birth.

His name was unknown 

and his posture was despised

but today, as the giant lies a corpse

we shout for joy at his name.

Now what was unknown has become known

and the despised has become admired by all

"Long live David"

the king,the warrior the shepherd, the poet, the harpist,

who was once 

just a boy with red cheeks.

-January 25. 2009

I am of heavenly blood line

My life is not defined by the things you see.
It is not controlled by the way I feel.
Even though it may seem ordinary and weak
it is not as simple as many might think.

It flows from the veins o fa long-ago man
whose worth was denied since the ancient age.
His fate was determined by short-sighted brains
and his life was crushed by human hands.

They tore his garments apart and cast lots
while hi bare body hung in shame.
His pierced hands hung in the air
and a painful crown thorned his sinless skull.

As he took his last breath and hung a deserted corpse
the spring of living blood overflowed with hope
and as the hater mocked with laughter
the dead man soared above into heavenly power
and gave birth to a nation of a new blood,
the supernatural blood of heavenly descent.

For the blood of that sinless man
who, now, rules and fills all that exists,
I was born to be a new creation.

Now the world does not understand
how I do the supernatural things I do.
They make false assumptions
and say my explanations are untrue.
They question the fact that
I do all things through Christ who strengthens me,
that I keep still and win all my battles
for no weapon formed against me ever prospers.
They fin it hard to believe that
I am one of a kind, a new creation of royal priesthood
and that I'm a supernatural being with a father in heaven.

So when the argue and think I lie
I prove my case always with my supernatural life
and though I don't even say that much
they shall confess that I'm of heavenly blood line.

-Dec. 28. 2008

It's the little things

It's the smiles, the winks and the waves
that lighten my life's distress.
It's the gentle touch and the words "I care"
that warm up my heart.
It's the "you and me", the "we" the "us"
that make me belong.
It's the things that money can't buy;
it's the little things that brighten my life.

It's the laughter, the joy and the chuckle
that ease the heavy load.
It's the tears and the loving hug of a neighbor
that remind me "somebody cares".
It's the unexpected invite, the call and the visit
that let me know that I'm needed.
It's the things that money can't buy;
it's the little things that brighten my life.

-Dec. 14 . 2008