A Trustworthy State

For if we died with Him, we shall also live with Him,

If we endure, we shall also reign with Him;

If we deny Him, He also will deny us;

If we are faithless, He remains faithful; for He cannot deny Himself.

So, to the frailty of the body I endure a great pause. A silence that is beyond anything but certainty. Certainty that all leave the earth hushing vibrations upon their paper thinned lips. The vibration of sound is the call of their existence. The faint and slow tone that sweeps over their last breathes produces the cry of heart. Oh, if only to have been called by God. To have lied down every night with the burden of knowing Him.
Minute after minute the young is spent dwelling on all the compilations of life. The space in between work and sleep is filled with what the heart longs for.
So, as the hand of death is deep and gripping I begin to settle my thoughts on the time of life. Oh death, cruel and tormented. You are satisfied only when you bring us to your bed. You hold us so very still until we are only a small whisper of a certain name. "Creator."
To the smart man, creator is learning. Still and thoughtful, in those last moments, reason is only a shadow of certainty that there is a concept of faith.
To the dark man, creator is beneath. Despairing as death holds his fantasies. In those last moments it is a dark blank of time that holds nothing but assumption.
To the consumed man, creator is his reality. As death makes him so still, he begins to feel the insanity of lost life and the reality of the after.
To the man of faith, creator is a small broken word. In the last moments it is a hum upon his lips. Jesus….Jesus…..Hurry…..Jesus…..Sweet..Jesus………Jesus.

To Aunt Sis, as she lay dying may her words continue to the very end. "Jesus..Jesus...Come...Jesus...Jesus" They will forever ring inside of me.