The Heat Pump
A geothermal heat pump pulls the heat up from the ground
As fluid circulates within a system all around.
Once heat’s extracted, fluid then returns to ground once more
To soak up warmth from mother earth to heat a home or store.
The heat itself the sun lays out in blanket round the earth
So when the need for heat goes up it reaches to the girth
Of stored up energy God put in place for us to use
A shift of summer surplus for the cold and winter blues.
In summer time a switch is flipped to turn the system round
So excess heat within the house is transferred to the ground
The cool of mother earth relieves discomfort and fatigue
But it’s just a heating system run reverse conveniently.
So too, in life and system my research from day to day –
I soak up information I observe along the way
And when occasion rises or the needs of others rise
I throw the switch, reverse it, giving comfort and surprise.
Just as the heating system in and out flows equal time
Ideas flow in steadily and fertilize my mind
Right now my problem’s surplus of ideas stored in me
I fear will die in storage unavailed to meet some need.
There is an added feature which has served me well indeed
I can change the flow of fluid anytime to meet my need
When things in heat up in action with the people all around
I can find the cause of trouble – store it deep beneath the ground.
I am a high-explosives man, creative use of blasts
Is what through me sets people free from blockage of their pasts
I work with individuals one-on-one behind the scenes
To set them free to rise up to the surface and be seen.
I mostly work with leader-types before they’re seen to be
Of use to institutions which give life to you and me
If people want to get on with their lives within their towns
I’ll lend a hand, but if not, I just 'dump-truck' to the ground.
Then when they’re ready to move on, I pick them up once more
And put them through their paces, whence I show them to the door
My point of satisfaction – seeing tail-lights down the road
Not the comforting of heart-break others do when hands they hold.
I used to think the power for blasts came from within my breast
I soon found out such politics and striving’s not the best
There is a power of Spirit which both guides and us it frees,
When it flows through us to others, it’s the blast that gives release.
It’s strange because the powers of life are not without their place
In going round about the tasks of passing on His grace
The tasks He gives us ‘here and there’ are doing ‘this and that’
To give Him room to operate, then detonate His blast.
The tasks he gives humiliate us just as oft as not
And leave us feeling humbled as our status 'round us drops
But effects of the explosions, so well placed and plain to see
Make a little humble pie a feast sublime for me to eat.
But info that I gather with my heat-pump research tool
Is not used to be the freeing blast that educates a fool
But rather wisdom nuggets slipped in words so quietly
Or some innocuous action taken plain for all to see.
That’s how the timer’s set, the snare is laid, His gun is cocked
And the person goes about their life, at Truth they have not balked,
So when the time is right, they student ready – blast resounds
And the food that’s lacking for that fish? – already in the pond.