Crooked Tree (Something for Nothing)

All rights to Image Michael Bennati

Under the sun near the crooked tree, I came to find a discipline that would set me free. It seemed a cold labor on a frozen fact would be the text book reasoning for what I lacked. What about the sunshine, and who made my breath, what about the rigors of a spiritual attack? Is smiling on a social network all of who I should be, telling all my victories of G_D in me? Is pounding in illusion ecological false facts, a time bomb of delusion on a new age attack. All about the outer shell while inner lacks. All I want is something and reality intact, well something for nothing and your grace is free, a simple line of lineage on a crooked tree.

Omen of a summer when I thought I’d died, looking ever skyward my whole life a lie. There were little children who counted on me, a simple deadly father who was lost at sea. I saw a moving shadow that laughed at my dreams. I fantasized a flame filled coven by some fallen leaves. What was all so simple in all I lacked, inward fallen symptom when I could not turn back. You spawned something for nothing by a crooked tree, enchanted simple love in beauty you in me. You’re something for nothing for the things that I lack. I will not follow deadwood on a stolen tree, I’ll fly raptured like eternal, indifferent, laughing, something for nothing, living Torah all together spirit, a simple line of lineage on a crooked tree.

Years of watching strangers lie and scheme, days of knowing that your faith was free. There are winds that shake me and try to deceive, those frozen ever chosen by a covered tree. You have given something as far as I can see, you have judged the living by a crooked tree. I will follow footsteps that have helped me grow, something for nothing, in the great space, wide open, something for nothing living by a crooked tree.

Crooked tree theology is not lost on me, a wind that blows in winter till it bends belief. Shallow is the timber that is straight on sight, cut and used for purpose, covered in a shelter, of a primed dead night. Crooked is your love born on great delight. Great and full of favor in a full mooned light. Something for nothing while you bend me, something for nothing that sets me free. דָּנִיֵּאל 05.22.2014

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