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Kris Dorn
Kristofer Dorn

the unforeseen journey of souls

i do not preface this, because i preface too much of my life away

i can only do one thing when my heart and mind exceed their limits...

so i find myself pacing this deserted parking lot, circling my grumbling car as it breathes the beat to my favorite fiery song.  my hiking boots earn their keep, ebony leather wraps my upper body in as much warmth as it can provide my shirted chest.  i puff on my cigar as if it is the last thing i will do in this lifetime.

and that is the point, isn't it.  this may be the last thing i do on this earth.

the greatest flaw of humanity is that we so underestimate the power of the millisecond.  the One who determined our existence, who wrote the master calendar, took less time to bat His eyelashes and send us into the beginning of history.  i was inspired tonight, late as it may be, to travel beyond my finite boundaries and seek out the purpose of my newfound hunger.  a realization of my own mortality, i fear.

but fear displays a lack of certainty, and the only thing in my life that is overabundant is named Certainty.  so i find doubt with no motive, because my future is assured.  and on that document of assurance is the signature of my Father, my Shepherd, my Guide, my Grace.  and that contract is binding throughout all eternity.

complexity is a word whose definition acts out of reckless denial of itself.  for what is complex is just a randomly Planned series of simple.

my deaf ears need to prune back the hedges of the world's definition of sound.  i thank my mother and father for providing two differing personalities from which to pick and choose, attained through a lifetime of trial & error.

but the only decision i am responsible for is my own.

the amendment to this rule leaves me accountable for the lives that are entwined with mine.  in a glimmer of time, there are ups and downs that leave my broken body thrown thisways and that.  perspective and objectivity are weapons to temper and extinguish the pain of reality.  it is not in my finite power to alter what happens.  again, in my decision my character lies.  if it is true to itself, it will not waiver in times of temptation or tribulation.

are these words from pursed lips of hatred?  quite the contrary

take them as ramblings of a poet disgusted with his own complacency and lack of understanding... past, present and future.  i will learn from these mistakes.  when my final chapter's ink dries, the only page that matters is the last.

then i realize, with the subtlety of being smacked on the temple with a tire iron, that i am staring at my feet while i pace.  this contradicts everything i am being led to feel.  i am compelled to look up.  a purple sky greets my view spackled with deep pink mushrooms of cloud.  this whole time i have missed that.  i am caught doing what i so despise doing...  looking at my feet.

carpe diem is a phrase i often find caters to what i want to believe.  but here i am, watching all too cautiously my footsteps to come, ignoring the beauty in the air above.  if i have Trust, why does my present and future path draw my attention so?  reminding myself of this... no, that is inaccurate... being reminded of this, the decision is made, and my focus becomes the smelling of life's roses, rather than the cruelty of the dull pavement underfoot.

no distinguished writer am i.  but tonight i find myself in the place where thinking and feeling unite.  there can be no ignoring the cry of Truth when even trumpet blasts fall silent.

i briefly break my circle of steps to head back to my still moaning vehicle.  symbolically, the cigar has ceased to produce its trademark quality.  i must rekindle it.

i know You hear me.  i know that You listen most to the unspoken.  You know the desires of my soul more than i.  tell me why i settle for living half-heartedly.  my timeline is not Yours, but i must comply.  let my learning be of Your world, not the tainted, twisted misuse of creation i find through human eyes.

as the burning stump in my hand dwindles, time whispers to me.  the last ashes dashed against ground from whence they were harvested, i settle back in my saddle.  the drive from my secret wandering lot is but five minutes from my home, yet the rectangular lines of white that paint the road seem longer than usual.

why is it that the darkened treeline is constantly reaching for space, but does not get any closer?

i find the click of door's unlock echo in my head, the apartment greets me.  the only thing that leaves this body is the silver-stained watch on my wrist.  for time is the only thing that is immeasurable at a moment like this.

the laptop is slow to wake.  eventually this gray box chirps with manmade noise.  destiny provides, the power cord that feeds its essence is long enough to reach the flimsy chair i call patio furniture.  this is where the story begins anew.

i try and explain to myself how the lighter earns its namesake.  the mechanics of the flame do not matter though, only the knowledge that it works.  as the orange bulb emerges, a second cigar ignites.

Lord, help me to bleed these thoughts onto this virtual parchment... let these numb human hands write what i can only begin to fathom... let the speed of my fingers match the rate at which You speak... let me listen to words not my own.

the porchlight sensor goes dim due to lack of visual movement

i struggle to find the thoughts and words that seemed so alive and overpowering just minutes ago.  and then the keyboard sings again.  the smoke dances across my face again and again without pattern, yet i take limited notice now.  the only pauses are created by the shivers that i cannot hinder.  my body begs me to step inside, but i take no heed to its call.

a Promise was made... that in Trust, even my enemies will find peace.  but peace is comparable to joy.  and joy cannot be truly felt or appreciated unless pain accompanies its arrival...  as peace both precedes and follows war.

my mortal skew on living leads my thoughts awry.  trusting is a blend of two simple elements: faith and action.  the world classifies trust as an indefinite and limited form of sharing information, because people cannot see past their blind pettiness and egocentricity.  our adolescent vision comes with unBiblical double standards motivated by self interest.  but my faith is in an active and living Author.  there is no reason to withhold, no reason to suspect, no reason to hide.  my actions often betray me, but only because i misinterpret Your discipline for malice.  but You have offered to carry me through.  i walk with four footprints.  and when i need the most, only two of those are visible.  this ground is not my heaven, i have yet to reach that summit, and i will only in Your time, by Your embracing mercy.

when You let me stumble, i curse at You in my shame.  forgive me for contemplating my agenda, focusing on my pain, forgetting the Plan.  as a warrior, greatness is achieved by battling and not by apathy or contentment.  and there are wars in which i must engage.

my tongue feels the heat of unbridled flame.  the sweet dominican leaves are not wrapped so tightly anymore.  palpable warmth escaping from open apartment door invites me back.  i resist no longer.