Tuesday, July 21, 2015

The Throne of God

The Throne of God

the trees creak and moan
       the rustling leaves sound like angelic music
black birds soar and glide on mighty currents
       swaying limbs bow before the Lord of the Dance
the dogwoods have faded – azaleas soon to follow
       everywhere behind the camouflage of spring
                   the choral cries of feathered creatures
                   hovering over all
a vast canopy of Carolina blue
       in my mind i go back to something ageless, ancient
                   a place that calls to me – draws me
                   a deep, eternal, internal beckoning.
the pull of my earthly homeland
            pales before this celestial longing.
still the natural gives me murky reflections
            of what is to come.
rows and rows of man’s brick and mortar,
            the appearance of permanence
                               that will in a moment crumble
much like my own earthly tent
boys on bicycles and butterflies in bushes
    shadow – substance  -  temporal – eternal
yesterday – the boy was me
today – the butterfly calls to my aging frame
            of new creations.
tomorrow – no more dimly lit mirrors
now – I stare at the heavens
            and with all creations declaring His praises
i behold the Throne of God. 
                                                  mark d. cooke, 04/01/1997

The Throne of God II

“I saw the Throne room!”  i sensed the awe in her voice
as man’s technology conveyed her words                                 
            from Raleigh to my study
The Throne room … seen through the eyes of the Spirit
where the temporal gives way
            to a far more permanent yet invisible realm
a mere glimpse to shatter all earthly care
            have I not captured
                        shadows of its image with the naked eye?
is this possible?  all around an autumn blaze
            declare the craftsmanship of Creator Spirit
                        brooding over His dominion
the anticipation of a world aflame with that same Spirit
    every tree a reflection of the one tree
    every stream pointing to the River
    every blade of grass crying out
                        “I will fade, but His word endures…”
animal sounds, insect vibrations
the restless noises of man in motion
in totality there emanates a message
“Something is coming!  Something is coming!     
  Something is coming!”
there is a destination to all of this
            a deep blue October sky
                        a phone call from a friend
reflections in the Book,
            words from anointed messengers
all beckoning me to prophesy to the wind
            “Come breath of God!  Give us life.  
Prepare us to see… the Throne of God.”                                                                                         

                                                                              mark d. cooke 10/30/1997

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