The moments fly like a wizard knowing exactly the score that whys this passing roll of time. In the forget-me-nots of my mind there are some things of happening so precious they are as sweet lips that crown the heart with reasons and memories for keeping on with the tick tock of days to days and nights to nights.

I love the favor of my life, the sweet lips of days mine that no dark force is powerful enough to wrest from me: like the moment I discovered the Lord’s love… and the moment I discovered who I was and who I was not… like the moment the angel, my wife, touched me for the first time… like the moment I heard the live cries of each of my newborn children… like the the time my eyes were opened to the alive spiritual side of God’s presence that abounds at the insight of visions remarkable.

The sweet lips of happenings are not ended, Sweet Lips and I’m Counting moments for the coming unforgettable events that belong to my heart, my spirit, my Soul, and my life.

A chorus of thoughts whistle cute “come on”, “come on” to me… come on, you can do it; come on, dance like a whirl; come on, sing like a voice the whole world wants to hear (even if they don’t)… come on, listen deeply; don’t you hear your real name?… come on, tap dance a message for “love” to be the king and queen forever and ever… come on, press the refresh button and jig a do of youngmanship.


I woke up this morning feeling fine; I woke up my usual early time (3:00-4:00 AM).

I sat on the edge of the bed and jangled my legs to the floor, kicked up a leg, and it said: more!

I stood up, raised my hands to the Lord, prayed and thanked AM for another day, got on the computer to see what news it had to say;

It was about war, politics, death, and taxes… checked a few things else and read my faxes,

The thought of this blog come to my mind; I put my hands on the keyboard and began putting it on line.


O kettle of leaves from the Tree of Life, brew a good essence of time; let the breath of angels aromate us. O messengers with eyes of blue, kiss sweet lips of love; I’m counting. I’m counting each precious moment to the next precious moment ’til the kiss of sweet lips comes again.

The Manifester

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