One morning 
I was awaken by 
a powerful presence. 
In this presence was 
a love so wonderful. 
Though the details of 
His physical features 
were obscure, there 
was no obscurity in His 
purpose or His character. 

He handed me a pen. 
I questioned if 
I should take this pen, because of 
the weight it carried. 
The pen that I had presently, 
Was very light in weight
Because it wrote much of 
nothing beyond carnality. 
Therefore, it took less thought 
in using it. 

But with this pen that was presently 
being handed to me, 
came responsibility 
and the preparation of 
character building. 

He marveled at my hesitation, 
taking note of the fact that 
I was not taking this lightly. 
He reassured me that this 
moment was meant to be and that 
He would be the essence of the ink 
in this mysterious pen. 
Therefore, I took it. 

He stood back...crossed His arms, 
and watched to see what I would 
do with my new pen. 
He wondered if I would write 
from the depths of wisdom, 
knowledge and understanding. 
He wondered if I would inspire 
many to take life to
it's highest height while 
exposing the frailities of it. 
Tearfully, He wondered if 
I would forget it's purpose and 
drag my new pen through 
the mud of lust and carnality, 
for the purpose of 
carnal entertainment. 

Gradually His presence became 
A mist which gave way to 
Thin air. 
Though I see Him not, 
I know He is still 'there'. 

Therefore, 
I speak to Him now... 

Jesus I love you 
With every poem I write. 
I will not mix darkness 
With that which is light. 

Since light and dark will 
Never mix. 
I won't be deceived by 
The evil one's tricks. 

My ink shall at all times, 
Flow with your being. 
My eyes are upon you, 
They will always be seeing. 

They see the dark thoughts 
Which entice me to write. 
They see your righteousness, 
Which reveals your light. 

Tis a blessing to have a pen 
That is not two faced, 
To write of the Spirit 
Which David tasted. 

This is what I exist for, 
Until it is me no more. 
For you write upon the 
Mountains of stone 
And upon the flesh 
Of hearts unknown. 

All of your thoughts 
Are pure. 
All of your words 
Are sure. 

Therefore, there will be 
No wavering in my style, 
Nor will I vex you, 
Even for a little while. 

With every stroke 
Of my pen, 
I choose to be a friend, 
I choose to inspire within, 
I write for hope again.