Branches, vine and fruit. Let your spirit get it. A Robe of authority and glory. If only we will accept it. Draw closer and He promises too. Live and move and have your being. Many called, few chosen,. You have a choice too.

Poetry, stories, and thoughts that spill from my mind. Smith was beginning to feel paranoid. Every time he walked into his corporate office building, he would break out in a nervous sweat, and his pulse would race. Especially, since no one else seemed to see what he saw.

A black man sold the woman who carried. My grandmother in her belly. He was paid with bright yellow coin. That shone in the evening sun. And in the faces of her sons and daughters. When I see that brother behind my eyes. His irises are bloodless and without color. His tongue clicks like yellow coins.

My journey as I learn to rest in the good, the bad, the ugly and the crazy of life.