Without a doubt I had many things to say. Perhaps if I was guilty of anything, it was the desire to be too good.
The desire to be too perfect while I was still in the flesh.
I felt it was better not to write than write the wrong thing.
So I wrote the right things then buried it. It was kept in a vault stronger than that of Swiss banks. A vault that could not be broken...
My mentor was the servant in the parable of talents shared by the Greatest man that ever lived in that wonderful sacred book.
I did not think that the Creator was greedy but I thought He was too perfect and good. I thought nothing imperfect was His. Without a doubt I was correct. Certainly and verily i was right.
The Creator deserves the best. Yet how do we know the best if we stay only in our father's land while all our beauty is hidden in darkness.
So I have decided to open the windows.
Pull down the roof tops
Tear apart the doors
Let all the air in
Let all the rain fall in torrents
The air sweep away my FEAR
Fear of breaking the rules of writing
Fear of writing the wrong things
Fear of failure or overwhelming success
Yet in the beginning we had no Fears 'cos we were fearfully made with full beauty by the Mastercraftsman, the Greatest Potter.
I thank Him for His gifts of writing , the gift of Creation.
For to write is to CREATE for all to see just like the CREATOR
See what my waifi has been seeing over and over, again and again, times and times unending.
Welcome to my first series of Poem.
Welcome to the Beginning When Man Adored His maker.