It’s 2035
It’s 2035 and I’ve got a son,
A bouncing baby boy and am raising him
To always believe that he can do the impossible, ’cause he is the son of the impossible doing God, tell me what…
Tell me what’s more impossible than standing right in the middle of the Indian Ocean, and parting the waters so you can create a dry path for you to walk through. And just when you cross over, the waters come together, closing the path so that your enemies won’t follow you.
Impossible right?
Yet funny enough all you need to do anything, is faith, the size of a mustard seed.
My son understands, that he is a coworker with Christ and the blood of creation runs through his veins, he can’t afford not to be crazy.
Well, crazy is the art form that changes the world, isn’t it?
It’s that guy, who knows literally nothing about swimming, diving right in to save a drowning baby. Or that lady, who just got away from a siege running right back there to try to save another kid, amidst exchange of fire.
We will travel the world, touching the universe with our hearts, people with our souls, animals with our hands, and kids with our arms. We will…
Write books, books that will go a long way to inspire, motivate, or just challenge someone to do something different.
We will mold poetry, words coming out of our mouths at an accelerated speed, made possible by potential energy, converted into kinetic energy, so that those words, will be fast enough. Fast enough to reach someone before they do something stupid. Fast enough to reach that teenager before he jumps down the apartment from the ninth floor, or sometimes slow enough, slow enough to bring a calming and soothing sensation to the sick and the hurting.
We’ll paint art and tell a story or stories that only and only art can tell; do pencil work and play the piano.
And even though we are not really a music family, we will sing our hearts away. Of course, we will be a little bit slower, a little bit faster, a little bit off-key, a little bit off-beat but who cares?
You see our time is limited. So one more soul to save, one more child to adopt, one more wedding to attend, one more to plan, one more birthday to celebrate.
It’s 2075,
And my body is failing me. You see I was just a mist that quickly appeared before it vanished.
Curtains closing, the movie is done and then it’s played. For the first time, the beginning, the middle, and the end. In the end, the cast list goes up the screen:
Movie directed, produced, inspired, acted, and written by God. The only movie that had only one line of acknowledgment, one being to acknowledge, the one who truly….. Matters.
It’s 2018, and am here, in this hall. Sz 39. Concert Night. Facing a thousand audience. Knees buckling, words staggering, and lips mumbling a prayer:
More of you and less of me there might be, there might be, more of you and less of me.
Curtains are closing, the movie is done and then it’s played….
The beginning, the middle, and the end.