All the ingredients are in place
Then a spark and a flame is born,
But flames are weak.
They must be fed daily
The winds can make it stronger,
But be careful the winds can blow it out.
The flame grows stronger

Soon others notice the blaze
They wonder where I got the flame
I try to explain
If I’m lucky I can see their ingredients
Sometimes watch their spark
Help tend their flame
And sometimes they reject your fire
I strive to keep it burning
Strive not to get discouraged when I can’t maintain post gas explosions

But when it does become an inferno
Then the fun begins
You can’t help setting things on fire
It becomes a shield
Flaming armor that protects you from the enemy
Wings of flame that carry you and your dreams
A shield to protect those you love
A raging inferno that challenges the darkness
A beacon of hope to all who search
And all this came from humble beginnings
All of this comes from a simple spark

i guess i don't love you anymore
i l i v e you.

Remember this: you only die once,
                                      
                                   but you live everyday.

What love is this that forgiveness's always granted even undeservingly
Loving despite the scars and burdens I carry
A love that sees beyond my flaws

A love that covers my multitude of sins
This love that grants me power to command my future
A love that leaves me restored but not wounded
Love that stirs me up bringing forth greatness

The love of God
Irreplaceable at all costs
Who else would die on a cross for me
Yeah! Love that found me when I knew Him not

For those who say “I’m not black” you’re right.
For calling myself black limits me.
It limits my destiny to that of a slave;
To a fate of being judged by my skin,
Trapped by every ***** stereotype

To call myself black is to deny the rest of me.
It denies the Cherokee that flows through my veins.
It denies the Irish proud and strong.
It denies the other nations that have made me.
It denies my ancestry.

So for those who say I am not black you’re right.
For what is black?
Is it the descendants of slaves?
Tired and broken. Or is it those of African descent
Or is it more modern
Is it the mother who raises children alone?
Is it the father who is never home?
Is it the children who know not where they belong?
Is it those who grow up in the projects losing hope?

If this is what black is I reject it!
I am more than black.
I am more than the slave in chain.
I am more than the Cherokee proud and free.
I am more than Irish strong and brave.
For to accept any of these is to limit me to its destiny.

I am a human made by God
Made in his image and likeness.
African, Irish and Cherokee it is what helped make me,
But they do not bind me to their destinies.
So those who say I am not black you are right;
I am more than black. I am a child of the king.
And he has written my true destiny.

.       **You're A Gift From God              
                  At His Moment
                           Of Joy

God is with me
In my depression
In my heartbreak
In my confession
In my lacking faith

God is with me
In my suicidal thoughts
In my strife
In my sinful spots
In my life

God is with me
In my pain
In my exhaustion
In my shame
In my frustration

God is with me
In my deepest desires
In my sadness
In my black and cold wires
In my numbness

God is with me
When she is around
And when she is not
When my pain abounds
And When I am distraught

God is with me
In my heart
In my mind
In my soul
In my life

God is in me always
When I breath in
And when I breath out