Unseen Reality: the wild spirit of the wind

a photo of a bridge in a city

I (Jimmy) was recently walking through down town Denver on a Sunday. I consider the city and nature my church service most Sunday mornings. The attendants, the wind, the wildness of a living God, and the untamed, uncorked personality of Spirit God. As I walked away from a favorite bookstore and coffee shop the Tattered Cover, I felt captured by the wind. I could feel the Creators happiness, I could sense the rhythm of life, I could see the angels swirling about in their ecstatic flight. I found a bench that I could rest on to capture this trinity of movement and song.This is my wind catcher poem (Sing Along)!

raw, undignified, and free

you capture me

with  wild cowboy dances

and melting ecstatic gazes

the travail of your old soul Spirit in the Wind

has walked the ancient forest paths even into edens-eternal-river-baths

barefoot and free,

nude as the sun, and

it’s you

who show oh Spirit how the wind must–run

Spirit of Spirit

Wind flowing energy like His

you bring my heart Home-where no ones alone

My heart His Home

And AliVE I come sensing spirit and song

my heart belongs

and hears with ears perceiving

the winds of time from His eyes

we dine-river of life-vital signs

Beat FLOW Rush River,

CLAP tree clap and wrinkle your eyes

the spirits new enterprise

I will not fear for I am child

dadda I call

“make me”

“daaaadddaa”

so soon surrounded by chuckles of unseen silent men and women

who begin to

color and craft me

the laughter befits this company men-women-linens-white-so white

the laughter circles

the laughter chases

our hearts

 and we hear the rhythm

BANG BANG BANG

our hearts find beat

drum dee dum dee doo

the ecstatic drummer boys and girls   emerge  playing their tune

Dressed up in eden’s dinner ware, we prepare     to feast and frolic     in purity

his hearts voice is near to me     and

my seeing His heart unravels          my hair to       fall–

beneath     my shoulders with care

he spent time weaving my heart his master craft

singing the blues he cultured me

playing street rhythm Bang pop jazzz

he fattened my soul

I hear again that wild west wind

the ruckus

blue seraphim

dancing in and out

mimics of fragrance

and fire

the doors of earth are filled

delight–desire

heaven hearing our hearts harp

this is the song that started a spark

a reconnaissance

a commission from the heart

now im left

mission in hand

will my question withstand

the wind and winding of weather and timing

Shall I tear the pieces of this indegenous city song and

let them dance the streets walking with wind and

tearing the down the cages people live in?

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