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CLOAKS AS OF GOD…Even The Form Of Godliness.

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Three things unto me are oblivious,
Yet four that are mysteries..
The journey to finding purpose;
The path of patience;
The essence in pride;
Cloaks as of God.

Life’s journey…variably part of the process…
When trust is shaking and faith is being transformed into liquid unproducing, not because the Author and Finisher- God as I know Him, has become any less, but fear has begun it’s perfect work in me.

All done, aching tears let out in a seas rush,
My heart is aching to breaks.
Fear taking it’s best hold on me and here’s the mutual, there’s no defence or strength left.

It’s a journey to finding purpose –
Beat to the ground, cries of mercy leased.
Patience eloped, my thoughts cannot seem to follow.
He said there were many checkpoints – they’d slow down and alter with it purpose and timing.

He said Him, working to get attention but too busy to hear Him, thus my dying sensitivities.
From my within seems to be overflowing fears rhythm,
Yet faith not completely lost.
Loops too porous purpose is slipping through,
Directing eludes me and now I’m left struggling ahead of Creator.
Yet with my heart’s strength crushed-
…His Word is my Sword and His Arms are my Fortress..

Here, just one, is a facade

Here’s faith and Christiandom.
A show of events and abilities is becoming;
Power so easily seems transferred, and from vein to vein flows forth oil…
even if I give my body – neck dragged to the stake to be burned as a martyr, and like a sheep to the slaughter I open not my mouth;
even if mysteries be revealed, making every plain as day in all faith;
even if I speak with tongues as of angels, and I have faith as God, with human eloquence and ecstacy, yet not love, so effectively creeks
personified I become, emptiness I become too…perfect in emptiness.

So easily we resort to objects of public display – cloaks as of God, yet no God within…
No faith, no patience, no love, just jointness without – degenerated to walking deads.

Hear the conclusion of the whole matter –
Faith and love;
Faith towards Him that is Him;
Love towards them made from Him…
Faith that propels love;
Love that springs forth from the deepest within. Genuine, without any pride of residence – is what is Christianity – the power there in.

…But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in the part will be done away with…

Phire’s Diary…

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Source: Phire’s Diary…

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I was dropped off at grand daddy’s today after the sleep-over at Katherine’s. Papa said he needed time with his woman. I don’t really care a many, she never had my time anyway. Grand daddy says the congregation is throwing him a party at the local church and he wants me there. I don’t think much of it, but I’d have to show him love…

I thought I was going to see a lot like my granny, but I saw many little senior boys and girls. There was a little senior black boy, he was standing before everybody and talking a lot. He always had something to say and would not really let granddaddy or any other speak. Nobody seemed to like him, they would always shout him down. But he didn’t seem to care…and he was so rude! He would not obey the grannies or the bigger ones. Granddaddy’s types will not help too, they just were only laughing. I do not also like this one.
The smaller men had toys. They kept playing even when granddaddy was speaking, they would not at least give a listen. The toys were cute. They were all white and black but I couldn’t hold them. Papa had ones like those but he would not too allow me touch them. He said they cost a lot. They looked like they cost a lot too. They had wide screens and few buttons. They had a lot of light in them, just a finger touch and they’d all come alive. Anyway nobody seemed to care about the lights…
Back in the days Mama used to tell me of a beautiful bird with many coloured feathers. I thought I had seen many of them in granddaddy’s church today, but they had no wings. Many of the little senior girls looked a lot like that bird…many colours all around them. They looked like the Victorian women uncle told me of in ‘yankee’…he called it ‘English’. But how could they live in ‘English’? I’m happy about the place I come from, it has a good name.
There was this one, she dressed in Royalty. She wore Queen’s clothes and shoes, and a head covering that seemed to cover all of her face yet too small for her head. She walked like she was going to fall, her backside going left and right in slows. She carried a little one. He had eyes like cute balls, jelly hair, and he didn’t have any colour in him. She smiled a lot, maybe she just found her man – mama’s old pictures looked like that too. She rocked and stroked the baby like senior granddaddy used to do to me, and she sang like the blue Nightingale in mama’s garden beautiful songs to the baby. But the baby is like me a lot, he would not even smile back at his little mama. Then she dropped him and left like Mama had to me…oooh, so sad…
This uncle was always sleeping, maybe his woman disturbed him until late, as mama did to Papa…

Then the man in green and white spoke to us. He said we should give birth to fruits…but we are no trees!!! Everyone listened quietly to his sounds so well,I think he would be the great one, or maybe close to Biggest Daddy…he was old too.
Granddaddy would not tell me why the man referred to like him as trees… or why he wouldn’t stop smiling. I was hurt, the man in green called my grandaddy a tree and would not be quick to make him the party.
He said he couldn’t help me much, granddaddy that is, yet he had the hairs that they say hold knowledge. He said there is one, a Spirit, that held all the understanding and would not give as much as a little to me except i asked…he called Him Holy.

Phire’s Diary…

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Granddaddy turned 64 today… Young and vibrant, he still would not change. Granddaddy is a light skinned man. He used to be taller when he was younger – not that he is ‘down-to-ear…

Source: Phire’s Diary…

HEAVEN’S GRACES…. See! I’m Being Made.

In the confines of my within I seek to explore unto experience. Taking courage in all my working senses, I’m set to discovery. Not so because I crave residual knowledge, but of a truth I seek to know….

I seem to be drowning deep in ignorance, and I wonder much why understanding eludes me. Perturbed and perplexed, all at once is becoming of me and I cannot seem to relate ends…

But then my heart is being transformed into transparent liquid producing, and my soul lies in the bosom of insecurities. There’s an ache deep in my heart and ‘frightened’ seems to build old on me…

He said He would confirm His Word, He has asked me to be strong. He’s assuring me of His love, but my own abilities fail me and I’m being faced with the difficult task of ‘believe’, so I remain, still in my uncertainties.


But now He’s come. He’s assuring me of His grace. He says He has released all of heaven’s resources, and there surely are affirmatives. He’s asking me to let love take its course on me, then I’d believe unto grace. ‘Oh! That men will praise Him for His goodness and for His wonderful works to the children of men’….

Here’s where He has brought me to, ‘believe’.

He has in me placed both grace and gifting, knowing well how to harness unto productivity, ensuring that I stay connected, else I malfunction. Slow and steady, He’s stirring up what already He has stored up. ‘…to procure, furnish, and thoroughly equip…’ Up until my day of departure, He stands, ensuring I remain virtue filled, value adding, purpose and worth personified, loaded with treasures, never empty, a blessing to humanity, full of encouragement… a life giver- Sheva…

He has made, now He’s putting into creation, dispatching unto purpose and assignment.


‘He breathed into me and I came alive, then He gave me a spirit, making me like Him…that I might have boldness in the day of judgement’…

Herein is love made perfect, all of Heaven’s Graces.


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  In the inner part of the palace I have been made the daughter of a King Inwrought with gold is all glorious my clothing Therefore I will sing and my heart will overflow with a goodly theme. …



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In the inner part of the palace I have been made the daughter of a King

Inwrought with gold is all glorious my clothing

Therefore I will sing and my heart will overflow with a goodly theme.

As I address my psalm to the King, my tongue is like the pen of a ready writer

Filled with some inexpressible unexplainable

My heart soars with joy and love that eludes my control or relax

And then maybe the butterflies ’happying’ in my belly.


Right from my bosom’s deep seated

I have set to the tune of the lilies

A psalm of my heart, a skilful song, a song of love

My soul overflows goodness, that I could bring forth fatness

Life in glows, yet untapped.


On me has been placed limitations

By which I do not know;

Then he moves me to tears, like the fullness of my heart I fail to ably express.

My heart is full and this I wish-

Not to show its outpouring per say,

But to cut it off and to Him completely.


In my own words I have found no console

Guts forced out it seems to be

Infinite, hunger seems to lie

Only hunger to render praise

So in this I have found little expression-


‘That divine did not mean distant;

That beating in His heart is a force to reach out to me and take me into embrace;

That necessity is in my experiencing His own defined love;

That He is creator and craves communion, His glorious greatness offering grace to inefficiencies;

That there is this Father and Friend, daily loading me with life’s, love’s and joy’s benefits.


Thus the experience that is mothered by explore-

And just for a brief, there is satisfaction

But just after, this burning heart cries for more-

The new day that leads to forever in His presence

So the ultimate consuming pants

Still is that glowing goodness


…yet my heart cannot be stopped

Beating hard with much love and gratitude-

See, I have been consumed.