Hold up

What’s the hold up?

Have I not regard for your progress?

What’s holding you up?

Is it not my hand that instructs the waves? Do they not rise and fall at my command?

You place your foot upon that which is fluid expecting to fall, but what is it you see?

A footprint, the water solid where my foot rested.

For the way I take only the redeemed can follow. Have I not redeemed you and called you by name?

For the path I take is fluid.

I am comfortable with the fluid, for I am certain.

Let me say that again… I am “certain”.

I draw on that which is fluid. I stand on that which is fluid. Can anything rise against me? Can anything send me off balance?

For the boat I have given you is golden. Not gold plated but solid gold. For that which I have ordained to float cannot sink, despite what man may think.

For I inhabit the unexpected, I confound the wise, for they cannot make sense of me. I am beyond sense but not nonsense.

For my flow is golden, it pours out across your land.

For you are my warrior painted in gold, bathed in gold, my golden child.

Wrestle not with the one who strong arms you for I have broken the arm of the Pharoah. For who arm wrestles with a man who has a broken arm? His arm is bound and has no strength, it cannot hold itself up without binding.

This is a new season, a new era, for the wilderness shall be green and I will make you lie in it.

See and feel the abundance all around, for it grows at your touch. The desert sand blossoms at your touch. In an instant growth, from the seed to the shoot to the harvest.

Repeat after me it is the time of harvest!

Expect the unexpected. For the golden leaf falls upon the flow. The precious gem rests upon the surface, the light glistening upon the water. The net resting upon the surface with the golden fish falling upon it from on high.

For I have carried you to the table. I don’t need you to walk. For I have seated you at the table and given you authority to speak.

It is time for the pouring out, the great outpouring. For I have given you a special up. The golden cup. My cup.

For I cannot be contained. I will not be contained, look out for the fountain to burst forth.

I’m cracking up. This cup cannot contain my flow. I shall call it a fountain, for it bursts at the seams and has no strength in itself to contain my flow.