Midnight Meditations

Still seems the sky, overhead in the midnight eve’s deepening grasp

the orchestral triumph of nature’s crickets echoing their call.

Neither hot nor cold, but somewhere in the middle

for such southern climes,

dusky white clouds drift across a blue-black sky

in the moon’s lunar light.

They move slowly, as if half-asleep,

adrift on the currents of slumber-like wind.

I meditate upon You, Holy One

my very heart and soul, the reason I draw breath.

It is You who sustains me in my highest moments of sacred selflessness.

It is You who hides me in the shadow of Your wings

when I am afraid and uncertain.

I know I can rest fully in the character of Your heart

as revealed in Yeshua, the Perfection.

I praise You inwardly and outwardly,

read and prayed globally,

that You may be glorified.

I sit stupefied with wonder

at the seeming recklessness of Your choices

in the selection of soldiers

and then marvel at the wisdom

behind Your Purpose, from creation to formation:

how You always choose the ones

whose hearts are foolish and reckless in love with You.

And every time, even as we are stuffed in a log

and sawn in two, we rejoice;

for the mortal must cast off mortality

to clothe itself in immortality.

What is sown is a bare kernel, a seed,

what is raised is imperishable.

And so in the middle of nights such as these,

I reflect on You in heartfelt adoration.

My purpose under this darkened, sleepy, ashen sky

is nothing more than witness

to the sounds of a Carolina cricket choir of 2025

playing a song only for me,

wondering at the majesty of Your Form

as much as a mind such as mine is able,

and sharing my mental ramblings

with souls scattered far and near.

Sleep softly, Beloved.

— Dust