Under the Shadow Tree

There’s a place 

under the shadow tree, 

when the wind blows and the tide is high, 

you feel the sea breeze lightly sweep over your face, 

with your head tilted towards the auburn sun, 

the warmth of the rays shower upon your calamity, 

you close your eyes and there you are: gone in an instant.

Far beyond vast firmaments; oceans of hopes and dreams, bottles with tears of joy and pain, storehouses of deeds both done and undone,
made by bricks weighted with thought and logic.
There, rings bells of shouts and whispers. 
Chasms are filled with prayers of abounding love, or scorching hatred. 
The shining of liberty and fogs of bondage, 
beacons of light and darkness, caverns of screams and laughs, 
towers of righteousness and wickedness: the opposing forces.

Books of justice: being life. 

Books of law: causing death. 

Deep grounds formed from soils of sin and soils of purity. Over mountains of feelings and intentions, through songs that fill every breath of air with either redemption or condemnation
..far beyond these, there lies a realm more infinite.

Eternal.

This place I long for, this place I need. 

With every inch of me and every life in me I scream out for thee, 

“Come make your home in me.”

I have heard this place and felt its imprint in my being. I have seen this place and it has left its echo in my blood. With everything I am and everything I hold I walk humble toward a huge throne. I lay it all down at the feet of the master who sits upon the spinning wheels of 

time and galaxy –all for one glimpse of this place.

Because it has enraptured me and swept me away like none other, 
this place high up beyond the clouds. 
This place that builds as an empire with royalty as its rulers 
and a blood stained flag at its peak; it is waiting to be captured.

It draws near all who hear its sirens calling forth and beckons all who then see its beauty break through the pitch of shadow.
It waits with the dawn for those who will come win her.

It waits like an ocean’s rider waits for a wave, it waits.

With peace and perfection, strong hope and direction, it awaits them.

Those who are fierce like lions, meek as lambs; wise kings and queens, proud sons and daughters. These elect, these chosen, who know the time, such as this. It is awaiting, it must. It is a place unhurried and unbending: steady and strong: ready and patient.

This place I yearn for, this place I claim my own. 
New Jerusalem: my home.