Fabric of Life

Everyone’s life, is a fabric square on a large tapestry.  We all live, for a twisting wisp of a blue gray shadowy moment, then we die.  Our story is added into the tale of humanity.  Where does the tapestry hang?  Is it proudly displayed in God’s great kingdom? Or perhaps, is it only stored in books, and memories.   A dying phantom, chained by lost languages, burning invaders, and evolution’s relentless march.

That prompts a question.  Does death scare or hurt Evolutionists?  From nothing, there can only be nothing.  No soul, no life beyond death, no real value, becomes all there is to look forward to in that perceived existence.  If I were to believe evolution as true, I would reduce myself to the product of random chance, and the offspring of a filthy monkey.  I would have no creator to ask for guidance and help.  My relationships with other people would be reduced to simply the shifting and sorting of dead matter.  Life, would not matter.  Millions, and millions of years of nothing was all there was, so what value is a few years of a false something.  There remains, only nothing.

I recently heard a wise man say, “I don’t believe in God, I know in God.”  I like that.  As a writer I am commissioned to write what I know.  I have never been to Heaven, or swam in the fiery lakes of hell, but I do believe they are real.  Much like I believe there is a center of the earth, and a heart in my chest, I believe gravity and heartbeats are felt, and not seen.  I therefore can only tell what I believe, and if you need a demon wing, or a pillar of heaven, then I can’t help you.  All I can do, is show you that you have a value beyond your physical pattern, I can take that invisible magic that is called love, and send it floating on the invisible air, to land on your invisible soul.  Love, for the sake of simply showing it exists.  It rhymes with the purpose of God.  It shows God.  It is God.

 

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

Life is a quick sneeze, (Hii Ku!) bless you

Ruminate on life.

value in health, kids,

and loving wife.

Work to support

family, only one goal

warm childhood soul

Love, silky red mist

clothe my weary heart.

 Life anew with kiss.

Time becomes soft

moments are fragile, gray,

memories are lost.

High above Earth,

life looks so very simple,

death is birth

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

 

Let your tale, be poured into my ears

My friends, I humbly ask for you to consider the following notions, before you release the swarm.  In conversation, with other human beings that inhabit this world, please entertain the idea that their story doesn’t match yours.  All people, perhaps, have unique back stories, that may identify them, haunt them, or inspire them. The fibrous stands of time are woven together for us all over years and years of experiences.  Yet, the patterns, shapes, and perspectives are vastly different.  Some fabric is cut, some are burned, some have vibrant stories and colors, some depict great tragedies.  Words are not defined by your strings, but by theirs.  Father, may be a word that is equal to the devil.  Mother may mean perpetual anger and criticism.  Please dear friends, I beg you to pause, and allow rumination to take your thoughts on a flight.  High above your own city and town, where events that have happened to you are lost, and the vast landscapes of another person unfold below you.  Become the Hawk, high in the cool breeze, seeking to capture their story, hiding in the rocks.  Swoop down, and consume their tale.  Live, with them in their moment of storytelling.  Listen, learn, and most importantly, love.

 Take the institution of marriage.  Why, to me, it is a fine thing.  My parents stayed married their whole life, as did my wife’s parents.  I watched them endure mighty storms, but they were as steadfast as a rocky shore.  My tale, is my tale.  Other souls may have the word marriage fall upon their ears as a ball of thorns beings pushed into their heart with a glowing orange iron from the fire.  A man may have used his might and authority to foul innocence.  A woman may insult a child because they remind her of the man who failed, and left her alone.  There are thousands and thousands of stories.  Consider, listening.  Discover what life is to someone else.

The swarm of your words, waits like an army.  As the ruler you choose what to arm them with, when you unleash them into conversation.  Will you attack in foolishness, or will you send an unarmed scout, with ready pen and blank page to learn the tale of life, from another.

My friends, please consider carefully concerning the swarm.  For if you attack, for the sake of yourself, you will become a defined agent of pain, and burn another thread of time black before it is sewn permanent into the tapestry of someone else’s life.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

Poetry of my love for her

Love for her, prompts

heated black ink to caress blank pages.

A lively dance of the quill pen begins.

Rhythmic circles and purposeful slices,

capture love within eternal letters.

Scented ripples flung,

out of the flow,

of your long brown hair,

smell like fresh garden air,

passionately kissed by, lavender.

Graphic, the memories of our love,

falling into my memory,

like rain made of white light.

Evocative, your smile is devoured,

by my eyes, love’s sensation, wraps

fuzzy strings around my heart,

and squeezes.

Eloquent, your movement captured,

forever, in the theater of my mind,

in darkness, the gray light flickers,

the screen is stolen,

as you dance upon it.

Vivid, the curved letters of your name,

tattooed on the surrendered shell,

of the love, that swells,

my glowing red heart.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

 

 

 

Desire

When that reddened pump, wrapped in love catches fire…

Desire, like a hungry caged predator leaps out, and devours lovers…

When soft lips float on top of stilled breath, and eyes close…

Desire, no longer an endangered species, its coat grows thick and warm…

When every touch flashes bright lightning, deep under hot skin, stealing kisses…

Desire, is a fire that will burn orange for all eternity, roaring and popping…

When the night wind, whispers away the burdens so abundant, in days light…

Desire, cannot die, as long as lovers hearts share often in romances blaze.

 

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

Warm honey, sprinkled with moonlight

Hearts, drink love in hungry gulps,

breath, kiss, and caress, quicken 

sparkling needles dance inside fingers,

summer breezes float sweetly in warm night air.

Sand scatters on times shore,

wipes smooth under oceans of passion,

surrendered souls rise like storm clouds,

rain and lightning, blast an orchestral symphony.

Sunlight spills, free and loose into the morning,

a warm orange and yellow embrace follows,

blue shadows of swaying trees in moonlight,

Hearts twist together like roots and soil.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

Whoa Baby! Wait a second…

“Hey baby, how you doin’?”

 

“Baby?  Excuse me?”

 

“I just saw, from over there, wow! A beautiful,  interesting… ”

 

“Look buddy, when you say ‘baby’ what are you implying?  What you will leave me with?  What my social status is?  Helpless and fully dependent on you, the man?”

 

“Wow, I just came over here to ask out…”

 

“Well, you asked… now go away, you guys are all the same.”

 

“All the same, really?”
“Yes.  You want to hunt, and harvest a woman, then once you get what you want, you are gone.  I am a woman, and I don’t need some loser drooling all over me.  I make over one hundred thousand in a year.  I don’t need you.”

 

“Alright, I see that some guy, somewhere in the past, messed you up good.  Why should I have to pay for that?  Could it be possible, that a guy finds a girl, they both are messed up, they both have pasts, but love and commitment may just be able to be measured by how much they are willing to change and sacrifice for each other?  I find that notion very romantic.”

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Michael.  What your friends name?  I came over here to ask her out.”