2 Timothy 4:3-4 3 For there will be a time when people will not tolerate sound teaching. Instead, following their own desires, they will accumulate teachers for themselves, because they have an insatiable curiosity to hear new things. 4 And they will turn away from hearing the truth, but on the other hand they will turn aside to myths. Communication within 

To describe what makes me tick ... do I have the vaguest?

Could I be who I should be ... if at all I make some sense?

Or is that when you receive ... all that information

that I’ve got to deal with ... called “process of intent”?

 

The Spirit is like electricity ... joined in one with God.

The light it provides ... is the point where my “me’s” meet.

My spirit meets my soul ... and it tries to enlighten,

that part that only knew darkness and hangs by its own feet.

 

The wire that conducts the energy ... to the lamp of wisdom

is the most brittle ... and not insulated at all.

It is made of material ... that I call the body

planted in the world’s consciousness ... an example of the Fall.

 

The generated power ... which comes from the outside

is all the supply I need ... to lighten up my soul.

The bulb that never shone before ... now flickers like a candle.

The heat the light generates ... makes it want to hide indoors.

 

As it travels through the wire ... the energy meets resistance

for it is a foreign substance ... that moves on the outer core.

It warms up the inside ... to remove understanding’s hindrance

and in such direct the flow ... as it hungers then for more.

 

What if the light that flickered ... went quietly out again

and the memory of it ... hangs like a picture on the wall.

Could it be that every time ... that you glanced upon it

you still think you have the light ... for it is there after all.

 

Life is not a picture ... that is seen by self.

Another will see in you ... when it within you unfolds.

There would be no guessing ... in a world of total darkness

for the smallest ray of light ... would appear like a lightning bolt.

 

Jan Wienen