Psalms In The Heart

“The Campaign Between Lives” We stand between the lives we’ve known, Between the seeds already sown, Between what died, what comes alive, Between the will that won’t survive. We see the states both dark and bright, Called death by day, called life by night, No place to run, no camp to flee, This war is waged internally. Persistence pulls us thread by thread, Through all the living and the dead, Each step returns us to the flow, An endless path we come to know. I pray for you, you pray for me, No self remains, no “I,” no “he,” Each works the other’s broken plea, Till all are answered— eternally .

Who Presses Send I didn’t wake up holy, I woke up late, Phone buzzing debts, another sealed fate. Coffee tastes bitter, mirror won’t lie, I ask what’s wrong , but I don’t ask why . I try to be good, I try to be strong, But every intention bends itself wrong. I say “Creator, help,” then rush my day, Forgetting the words before they decay. I think I decide when to finally pray, When pain gets loud or hope runs away. But the cracks showed up before I could choose, Like a script already written, I just read the cues. The what wasn’t money, or peace, or relief, It was seeing my heart as a professional thief. Stealing the moment, the credit, the light, Calling it freedom while losing the fight. The when wasn’t planned, wasn’t marked on a chart, It came when the ego ran out of smart. When excuses collapsed and the mask finally slipped, That’s when the prayer got honest, not scripted. The where wasn’t church, or lesson, or room, It was inside the wreckage, the dust, the gloom. Between who ...