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Blog Poetic

[Poetic] Tomorrow Has No Stench

tomorrow_has_no_stench_arvellcraig

Tomorrow has no stench, but it does carry weight.

Unduly anxiety can vex the strongest man who assumes the hypothetical.

Assumes and presumes to be one step ahead of a dubious future…

We call it being proactive and planning.

But we’re really just spamming.

Muddling our mind with negative expectations and fearful scenarios.

Refusing the live in the moment, being preoccupied with the…

I won’t call it the future.

It’s the possibility of the potential of the infinite unknown.

But with the ever passing gift of the present…

Why do we wear tomorrow’s burden today?

Selah.

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

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We are the music makers…

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers
And sitting by desolate streams;—
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

by: 

Arthur O’Shaughnessy

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My Soul Longed

“My Soul Longed”
By: Arvell Craig

My soul longed for, the love of it’s life. 
A kiss in the day, and a touch in the night. 
Impromptu escapades where we travel by flight. 
And then a stroll on the beach, beneath the moon light. 

My soul longed for, the image of love. 
As Adam knew Eve, his helper made fit. 
Intimate but unashamed, within covenant. 
With our words we are joined, with our vows we commit. 

My soul longed for, a life long affair. 
Infinitely infatuated without a worry or care.
But then my soul longed no more, and love became clear. 
I looked past a woman, and saw God standing there. 

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Casualties of Love

Pulsating throbs are ever present reminding me of the costs. And yet all I can think about is when can we dance again.

Both realities are present and yet one completely overwhelms. I hurt and I love. And love is all that matters.

I wince but still drift into dreamy imaginations; Envisioning a place of surreal bliss, fully alive and carefree.

I recall the days of protective mediocrity, straddling the fence, always hidden from extremes.

But in a balanced aspiration I forsook the greatest pleasure. I didn’t know that vulnerability gave the greatest of delights.

I didn’t know that seeking comfort; seeking security would rob my soul. In exchange for mountain top living, I dwelled in a prison that I controlled.

The casualties of love will be the sacrifice of self. A self molded by a culture, blind to who we really are.

The casualties of love is false peace that we invent. We exchange an empty existence with fully living in the moment.

The casualties of love is living without pain. Like a mother giving birth, we never regret the outcome.

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When Grace is No Longer Grace

My prayer life did it.
My giving tithing earned it.
I sowed a seed,
Abstained bad deeds.
And now, I have my payment.

(Ref: Rom. 11:6)

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Poem: There Is A Side To Us That’s Strong

There is a side to us that’s strong. But that’s the one we hide. Confident and soft-spoken, often confused with pride. And for some reason we yield; and fall into the trap. That actions of our surroundings and past, should govern the way we act.

But now I’m coming to think, and believe in heart and mind. I can make decisions consistently healthly; and leave the past behind.So will you join me in this journey. To become a better (wo)man? Neither for show nor success, but just because we can.

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Edge Living

I want to keep myself on the edge, but not fall off. Living far from the crowd but not be haughty nor proud. 

I want to be secure with who I am, the way I was made. Before the days I got seduced to live for social proof.

I want to walk by faith and live, aware of his voice. When deeds go dark as night I still won’t run and hide. 

I want to stay forever known, and know that I’m a son. So when all is said and done, I lay awake for his return.

I keep myself on the edge.