God-scented Halitosis
Winds of change break and bend and mold and conform and deform and transform and reform without a second thought for disagreement or a pause for effect.
Life rolls on and the winds roll from heaven blowing about the inhabitants of that temporary city of earth and some walk true with a sense of a great and high goal, a singular purpose, and others crawl slowly through the mire as it weighs heavier upon their waning souls day after day.
True stories are the best stories and someone said somewhere that when we tell stories we speak of the deep places in our own souls and sometimes we even change what is there with a simple verse and a beautiful metaphor.
Life’s ships sail on and we are carried on the wings of vessels that dare to tread the dawn, relying upon a subtle and firm gusting breeze, pungent with a scent of God.
Look to the east and to the west and see your companions made of sand and flesh and breath and flowers.
Smell the lingering mist of Jesus on their breath, the pungent, poignant scent of eternity that grasps you by the soul and by the hand and forces your eyes into theirs with a subtle tug at the strings that attach your inner being with your outer being and your outer being with God.
You read quietly over a cup of sad black coffee the epic poem of everlasting time residing in your human family and weep, weep for the bittersweet sense of passion that overpours your human cup.
Stories and rumors and capturing moments and unforeseen poetic situations and unpredictable God-metaphors and paradoxes and climaxes and no resolution in the poetry book of your friend and brother and companion and lover and shadow.
Walk in the steps of poets and kings and presidents, beggars and activists, brothers and sisters, mothers and mentors, storytellers and humans following carefully the pungent, poignant scent of eternity on their breath and in their souls.
