Staring into the oncoming car lights
on the sidewalk of a dimly lit street,
her hoofs are planted firmly on the worn and gray pavement.
Her stance speaks of a doe who has life all
picked out on her bed of fruit;
a red apple of garnet stones,
a stream of water to clothe her curves,
and sunlight to warm her tender soul.
Her graceful body is like the feather
of a dove finding its rest
on a carved green shrub.
Chestnut eyes reveal a future filled with hope,
and a past wrought with hurt.
Her soft brown ears are like the moccasins
I wear on my feet in the winter,
a protection against the bitter Arctic cold.
Her outer beauty has been misused and trampled on
as merely an animal to look at.
But, her caretaker has spotted deep within
an inner beauty coupled with a sweet fragrance.
She offers the world this luxurious perfume,
a scent so enticing that it lasts forever.
A friend set aside this free gift for her
long before she grew into four wobbly legs.
Now, she longs to spray it's healing power
into the lives of the other deer
and invite them to make their homes
in the fields of provision and purity.
(Copyright - Alex Puleo, Feb. 25, 2012)
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
To Be Known
To be known by anyone is a beautiful thing.
To be known by someone who created you; is even more beautiful.
Just think, if a clay pot knew itself, it wouldn't have as much as an effect as if the potter knew everything about the clay pot - every curve, every crack, every paint mark, every line.
To be known by God is a beautiful thing.
Now, before you click the big red X at the top corner of your screen, please take a moment to read on.
////////
"O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you preceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.
You hem me in - behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
to lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
for the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you,
If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
Away from me, you blood thirsty men!
They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord,
and abhor those who rise up against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.
Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting."
-Psalm 139
/////////////
God knows my thoughts.
He knows when my head gets up from my pillow,
when I walk from the kitchen to my bedroom,
when I get in my car to go to the grocery store,
when I talk with a friend on a phone.
God knows my thoughts.
He knows the words that I mumble under my breath,
He knows what I am thinking when a person cuts me off in traffic.
He knows the way I judge by appearances instead of looking inwardly at the heart.
He knows all of the days that have been before me -
He knows yesterday, today, and tomorrow
and all of my thoughts that will accompany each one.
God knows me.
He knows when I made (and make) mistakes.
He knows when I stumble and fall
and how long it takes me to get back up.
He knows my every being -
from my health, to the sound of my voice, to my unique rhythm of typing on the keyboard.
He knows my everyday routines.
He knows that I love to sleep in.
He knows when phone calls will come and my reaction to them even before I know who is calling.
He is my watcher and my protector.
He is my main man that stands guard outside my bedroom.
He cares for me and provides for my every need.
He is not a Hollywood movie star
but the only man who will sweep me off my feet
into a land of pure hopes, trials, and triumphs.
Yes, this is the God that I serve.
The who knows me so well that
despite all of my flaws
he chooses to still
love me.
To be known by someone who created you; is even more beautiful.
Just think, if a clay pot knew itself, it wouldn't have as much as an effect as if the potter knew everything about the clay pot - every curve, every crack, every paint mark, every line.
To be known by God is a beautiful thing.
Now, before you click the big red X at the top corner of your screen, please take a moment to read on.
////////
"O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you preceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.
You hem me in - behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
to lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
for the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you,
If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
Away from me, you blood thirsty men!
They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord,
and abhor those who rise up against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.
Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting."
-Psalm 139
/////////////
God knows my thoughts.
He knows when my head gets up from my pillow,
when I walk from the kitchen to my bedroom,
when I get in my car to go to the grocery store,
when I talk with a friend on a phone.
God knows my thoughts.
He knows the words that I mumble under my breath,
He knows what I am thinking when a person cuts me off in traffic.
He knows the way I judge by appearances instead of looking inwardly at the heart.
He knows all of the days that have been before me -
He knows yesterday, today, and tomorrow
and all of my thoughts that will accompany each one.
God knows me.
He knows when I made (and make) mistakes.
He knows when I stumble and fall
and how long it takes me to get back up.
He knows my every being -
from my health, to the sound of my voice, to my unique rhythm of typing on the keyboard.
He knows my everyday routines.
He knows that I love to sleep in.
He knows when phone calls will come and my reaction to them even before I know who is calling.
He is my watcher and my protector.
He is my main man that stands guard outside my bedroom.
He cares for me and provides for my every need.
He is not a Hollywood movie star
but the only man who will sweep me off my feet
into a land of pure hopes, trials, and triumphs.
Yes, this is the God that I serve.
The who knows me so well that
despite all of my flaws
he chooses to still
love me.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
My Valentine
My being aches with his pulse.
His flawless character is
combined with a desire to live
in a human being made up of flaws.
In a human being like me.
Humility draped over a couch
wrought from years of neglect and abandonment
patiently waits,
for someone to sit on his cushions once again.
I open the heavy metal door
and hear it creak like nails on a blackboard.
Its rectangular shape is cold against my pale and petite body.
The wind that blows through the trees
is the same wind that slams this door closed.
Is this a protection of sorts, from the world that lies behind and the one that awaits?
I journey down a wooden floor laden with petals of pink and red and blush.
Colors in an otherwise colorless world.
An artists true pallete.
My faded Nike sneakers pick up the dust inside in the walls of my own heart,
as the candelight casts shadows on the figure that sits
in front of me.
Eyes of pain and sorrow
interlock with eyes of childlike wonder.
The vase of healing stands at rapt attention in
the center of our small table.
I am a butterfly caught in the net of his fragile and vulnerable embrace.
He accepts me for who I am,
my identity is found in him alone.
I'm in awe that such a man would pick
such a girl like me.
So, instead of a heart shaped Russell Stover's chocolate box,
or a dozen roses standing next to babies breath,
or a balloon in the shape of my blood pumping muscle,
He gives me the promise of eternal life
always and forever,
in a field of zinnias.
(Copyright January 12, 2012 - Alex Puleo)
His flawless character is
combined with a desire to live
in a human being made up of flaws.
In a human being like me.
Humility draped over a couch
wrought from years of neglect and abandonment
patiently waits,
for someone to sit on his cushions once again.
I open the heavy metal door
and hear it creak like nails on a blackboard.
Its rectangular shape is cold against my pale and petite body.
The wind that blows through the trees
is the same wind that slams this door closed.
Is this a protection of sorts, from the world that lies behind and the one that awaits?
I journey down a wooden floor laden with petals of pink and red and blush.
Colors in an otherwise colorless world.
An artists true pallete.
My faded Nike sneakers pick up the dust inside in the walls of my own heart,
as the candelight casts shadows on the figure that sits
in front of me.
Eyes of pain and sorrow
interlock with eyes of childlike wonder.
The vase of healing stands at rapt attention in
the center of our small table.
I am a butterfly caught in the net of his fragile and vulnerable embrace.
He accepts me for who I am,
my identity is found in him alone.
I'm in awe that such a man would pick
such a girl like me.
So, instead of a heart shaped Russell Stover's chocolate box,
or a dozen roses standing next to babies breath,
or a balloon in the shape of my blood pumping muscle,
He gives me the promise of eternal life
always and forever,
in a field of zinnias.
(Copyright January 12, 2012 - Alex Puleo)
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