My heart is like lava. It’s a spiritual hot that makes evil flee, but the moment it cools, it hardens in the posterity of a permanent clause, “The End”.
It’s been in a season where I feel my heart cooling down and the hardening has burrowed my eyebrows downward towards a flicker of complaint as my eyes look for a fight.
Idolatry is an increasing poison that scathes the epidermis of my conscious and pedigrees itself higher than the word of the Lord making the latter manifest onto a tablet of stone. Idolatry rewrites the history of my resurrection day as a superficial burn that emits pain but can be bandaged through an unendangered expectancy of “I’m okay”.
2016 has been the pour of concrete into a deep crevice, so that I don’t fall into the areas that are void without purpose. But I’ve poured while blindfolded, so as I open my eyes, I see tall mountains above me. There’s a deep frustration that the trajectory of the next climb is even harder because I took the mold without understanding the chemistry and made time revert to a unlikable dimension without my permission.
The lava glows teal in a blender of magical surprise. It pulsates into a rhythm and dance that are taught by the Native Hopi. It channels a light on the ground next to moss and starts flowing in a current swayed by the uncharted West. It gravitates to the elements of the One and then back to my dreams. It stops. It won’t be able to find its course as easily as it once did. The cause led to the effect and the ebb stagnates into movements that forget that the journey was already defined by the One. There I am standing and watching this dense glow fork its path next to my feet ready to swim past where pressure is less hurried.
There’s no way this ethereal sludge will make it up the mountain. But if it does, I’ll be a fool for not believing to go with the Spirit that will lead me when I listen.