Decisions

Is it ‘torn’ or just the tension when we’re pulled two different ways?
Has the ripping really happened or just threatens to some day?
Are we really in the middle? Is that where we ought to be?
Is God fixing us this morning, tearing veils so we can see?

In our times of indecision we must walk with extra care;
Some things we should toss with vigor for too long they’ve tarried there;
While some others we should never even think to give up on,
It would bring on us disaster, put us on a road that’s wrong.

“Draw a circle in the gravel”, said the teacher of the sword,
“Then don’t venture from that circle, hope you heed this guiding word,
Till you first become an expert in defense of your home turf,
Then extend out its circumference – larger circles in the dirt.

Then if things get too extended, draw it back to tighter base;
Be an expert in your circle, be aware in any case
That extension’s geometric, factors compound (good and bad);
So’s effect of your withdrawing to the circumference that you had.

Now the dawn returns this morning and I start another week,
You reminded me of Ashern where you gave a little peek
At a way to do my living without hassle from outside –
“Live your life like farming honey, all your days in me abide.

“For when random your behavior, bees don’t in a swivet get;
All My actions seem like random to outsiders you have met;
But they’re not – there is a pattern those with eyes to see can see:
Heed my word and you will flourish; once again, abide in me.”

Is the circle geographic or a bubble of Your grace?
Does it move when we are moving or abide just in one place?
Is it something that we are skilled at, or some way You live through us?
Can we live with freedom in it? Does it help or make a fuss?

Seems the limits to our actions when they well-appointed are,
Turbo-boost our daily actions when they don’t extend too far;
If we’re kept from central focus – when the circle’s somewhere else,
We’re annoyed because the locus is not centered in our self.

POD is not the focus (slugs are made to fill the time);
Seems your locus is internal (second to the need that’s mine);
Where’s the heart of all your action, where’s the center of it all?
When I grasp that point with firmness, we’ll proceed until the fall.

That returns the question to me (for folks imitate my ways):
What’s the center of my circle, focal point to all my days?
I can’t see that point for looking, though I know my right-brain can,
So I search amongst the poems – paper trail of who I am.

For our art, poetic writing, and the journals from our pen,
Indicate to the choices taken, what we thought a way back when;
I just push into the future – rather eat than chew my food,
Satisfice my current output, looking back is not so good.

So a quest fulfills my being, all the rest takes second place;
In my writing I am questing, right-brain learnings I embrace;
They’re no better than the left brain, but I use them more and more,
For my intuition gathers stuff my senses will ignore.

My reflections pull the meaning from material I write;
I don’t need to be out viewing every instance with my sight;
I am really quite cerebral, my internal world’s so real;
I care less about the outside, it’s more how I think and feel.

Yet I want to share my learnings with the folks who wish to know,
Satisfice them with the essence, after that to just let them go;
That’s the point where I’d be happy: (give a principle or two,
Then I’ll make an application, plugging in that thought for you).

When I finish up a section of a project on my plate,
I assess the lagging items so an even front I make
Moving ’cross the field before me, just a part of larger game;
Thus fulfill my zeal for Kingdom, at my station I remain.

So my circle is quite concrete, not ethereal at all;
He’s assigned to me to three ‘quarters’ since that evening of the “call”:
Two I finished up de-coding, prototyped to starting point;
There’s just one which needs attention – I am uneasy at this point.

Now I see that special training, special skills, and expertise,
Can be used in several settings that some blockage be released;
Thus my circle moves around to other theaters of war,
Though the process is quite often much the same is done before –

Though there only are three projects He’s arranged to do through me,
They have inter-twined each other, so it’s hard for me to see
Any progress; I keep moving up the one that’s fallen back,
Keeping all progressing forward, in a broad sustained attack.

Maybe that’s the problem to me at this juncture on the field:
I have reassessed position, to the foe I must not yield;
First there’s native style of learning, then renewal of the church,
Now there’s righteousness in business (givers brought down off their perch).

As my time’s become foreshortened, I’m concerned about each task;
I prefered the local parish, (it’s the focus of my past);
Novels open up a pathway to get done the tasks in time,
But I’m still a bit uneasy if this present route is mine.

What’s the locus of my circle? Prototyping paradigms;
Teasing out the piece that’s missing, pushing through the part that’s mine;
I can widen out the circle, but efficiency then drops,
For the questing, prototyping is the part for me that rocks.

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