Blown Away!

Amidst the field of wheat.

As far as the eye can see.

And here it comes.

And here I come.

And the wind blows.

Giant wheat. The tallest of wheat. So much higher than you think.

For all shall bow before.

Genesis 37:6-8

And he said to them, Listen now and hear, I pray you, this dream that I have dreamed:

We [brothers] were binding sheaves in the field, and behold, my sheaf arose and stood upright, and behold, your sheaves stood round about my sheaf and bowed down!

His brothers said to him, Shall you indeed reign over us? Or are you going to have us as your subjects and dominate us? And they hated him all the more for his dreams and for what he said.

The wheat bows at the wind of my breath.

With such intensity.

With such power.

For I intend to blow you away.

For it is I who will do the threshing for you.

Blown away by my goodness.

As the sparks fly upwards.

As my breath flys upwards.

As the wind blows.

Not a seed storm.

A storm of produce.

A threshing storm.

A lifting off.

An elevation of my goodness.

Repeat after me and say “my goodness”

The production of goodness.

The pealing away of my goodness.

The revealing of my goodness.

The collection of my goodness.

And the net like a sail flys upwards and collects all that has been produced.

For the storm rests upon my produce.

Causing nothing to escape the gathering, the collection.

Captured by the heavens.

A heavenly capture.

A heavenly collection.

Amidst it all, I will cover you with my protection. Like a bubble suit, I will not let anything harm you.

I will protect you from the intensity.

And when the dust settles.

And when the threshing is over.

Only the produce shall remain.

I’m mopping up my goodness.

I’m clearing the way ahead.

And here you find yourself.

And here you find no just the produce but find yourself a new production.

A new result. An unexpected result. A mound of produce. A mountain of produce.

And yet it is I that creates something from nothing.

Amidst the swirling around.

Amidst the sweetness of the storm.

I am gathering all the sweetness.

Around the rod it gathers.

A wand of sweetness.

A cloud of my goodness.

Not fairy floss but a gathering of my goodness.

A instrument of my goodness.

A rainmaker.

A maker of rain.

A vehicle of produce.

On the accelerated path.

Hold on to the rail and in an instant you will find yourself at the horizon of your destiny.