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