The Lion's Din

din: a loud, unpleasant and prolonged noise

Daniel turns the lions' den into a veritable prayer room. Beneath the ear-splitting roars of the hungry beasts can be heard the weak voice of the elderly man of God. He calls out to the living God Who created these animals encircling him. 

       

How can this not be so? Daniel remained devoted to prayer in the face of the king's anti-prayer law. He didn't allow the threat of being thrown to the lions stop him from praying as he had always done. So why would he forego prayer now that he is staring into the ferocious faces of those very lions? If ever he needed the power of prayer, it is now. 

       

I believe we can get a sense of what he may have prayed in that pit by piecing together certain scriptures into one powerful prayer... 

''My soul is among lions. Save me from the lion's mouth. Break their teeth, O God, in their mouth. Break out the great teeth of the young lions, O LORD. How long, O Lord, will you look on and do nothing? Rescue me from their fierce attacks. Protect my life from these lions!'' (see Psalms 57:4; 22:21; 58:6; 35:17) 

       

At some point the beastly roars cease. Silence pervades the pit. If you listen with your spiritual ears, you will hear the holy sound of divine intervention. God has sent His angel. Daniel longs to meet his Maker when at last his earthly journey comes to an end. But it won't be this day. 

Job 4:10 

10 The roaring of the lion, and the voice of the fierce lion, and the teeth of the young lions, are broken. 

       

The angel could have easily slaughtered or even vaporized the lions. All options are on the table for he has been sent from Heaven. Samson took out a lion that dared to roar against him (Judges 14:5-6). The young David killed a lion that took a lamb from his flock (1 Samuel 17:34-36). And one of his ''mighty men'' - a man named Benaiah - once slew a lion in a pit on a snowy day (2 Samuel 23:20; 1 Chronicles 11:22). If these men were able to each kill a lion, imagine what the mighty angel sent to the lions' den could do! 

       

Instead, God commissions His angel to help Daniel by shutting the lions' mouths. For one thing, this brings quiet to the situation. A closed mouth makes considerably less noise - be it man or beast. The roar is neutralized. The roar is silenced. There is no more din in the den. There is a spiritual truth here calling out for our attention. The New Testament likens the devil to a roaring lion. 

1 Peter 5:8 

8 Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour... 

       

The devil makes a lot of noise. This ''uproar'' from our spiritual adversary takes various forms. He roars at us through circumstances and problems. He roars at us through other people. He roars through the commotion of strife and discord in our broken relationships. He roars through the news media. He roars through the bad news and negative reports coming at us from a variety of sources. He will even use our own thoughts to roar at us. There is no louder, more nerve-racking noise than mental noise. All can be quiet on the outside, but your mind can be roaring with all sorts of negative thoughts. 

       

The solution is to amplify the positive roar of Grace in your life. Think about a guitar amplifier. You plug an electric guitar into it and what happens? As the name suggests, it amplifies the music. The guitar produces a louder sound. Another familiar example of amplification is the hearing aid. This simple device has tiny amplifiers inside which enhance the volume of sounds, thus enabling its wearers to hear better. 

       

Similarly, there are spiritual amplifiers which can help you overcome the devil's roar. There are ways to ''turn up'' faith in your daily life. As a result, you will amplify your experience of Grace because faith is our access to the grace of God. 

       

Turn up the positive roar of Grace in your life.

You can't permanently make the devil be quiet. He will keep on roaring until the mighty angel literally shuts him up in the bottomless pit (Revelation 20:1-3). ''But,'' you may counter, ''the angel made the lions stop roaring at Daniel. Why won't God send an angel to make the devil stop roaring at me?''. 

       

Unlike those lions, the devil is not a physical entity. Demons are not physical beings. Evil is a spiritual force at work in our world. Spiritual problems demand spiritual solutions. 

       

God will not send an angel to do what He has already told us to do. He has already told us to ''resist the devil'' (James 4:7). Right after comparing the devil to a roaring lion, Peter instructs us to resist him with our faith (1 Peter 5:9). 

       

God didn't send an angel to shut the devil up when he tempted His beloved Son in the wilderness. Instead, the devil only stopped roaring when Jesus resisted him by quoting specific scriptures (Matthew 4:1-11). Angels came and ministered to Him after the spiritual battle was over, but they didn't silence the devil even for God in the flesh. Likewise, it's up to us to take spiritual action when the devil roars at us or our loved ones.   

Rather than yelling at the devil to shut up, a more effective strategy is to turn up the volume of Grace. 

The more you focus on the Word of Grace, the less affected you will be by the lion's roar. 

      
He is not the only one who can roar. You too can roar with your faith. You can roar through prayer. You can follow Jesus' example and roar by quoting select scriptures that apply to your situation. Perhaps it would be better to describe it as God roaring through you. Grace can bring peace and quiet even in the midst of the lions' den. 

(This post is excerpted from my book GRACE IN A MAZE: How to Make it Through)

The Edge of Language

The subtleties of Language and Life are examined..

The legato of language and lingo,

The dance of diction and dialect --

Have you ever considered the difference

A little letter or two can effect?

Texture of tense,

Savor of sense,

The nuance in a sentence --

What's really the difference?

....

OAR

ORE

You will need your oar

To reach the shore

To search for the ore.

JIM

GEM

GYM

Jim found a gem at the gym.

PRINCIPAL

PRINCIPLE

The principal lives by principle.

TO

TOO

TWO

Those two went to dinner and a movie too.

FLOWER

FLOUR

She ate a flower

Made out of flour.

ONE

WON

Have you heard the one

'Bout the loser who never won?

DUCK

DUCK

You better duck when someone throws a rubber duck.

PIC

PICK

PICKED

I picked a pic of a pick.

TIME

THYME

It was time to add the thyme.

LIAR

LYRE

He's a liar if he claims he plays the lyre.

SIGN

SING

There's a sign that she likes to sing.

Just look for the n before the g.

DOC

DOC

DOCK

According to the doc,

You can find the doc

Down by the dock.

FORK

FORK

The road had a fork.

There I found a fork.

SPOON

SPOON

He liked his spoon.

She liked to spoon.

QUIET

QUIT

It's good to be quiet

But please tread light,

For if you take away the e

And do away with it,

You'll end up with quit.

HOMINY

HOMILY

It's not appropriate to eat hominy

While the reverend gives the homily.

HYMN

HIM

We sang a hymn about HIM.

PREACHED

TAUGHT

The preacher preached

And the teacher taught.

But why hasn't the teacher "teached"

Or the preacher "praught"?

LETTER

LETTER

Have you ever written a letter

Without a single letter?

****

If the reality of language

Rests upon variables so slight,

What does this tell us

'Bout the whole of Life?

THE SCRAMBLED ANNA GRAHAM

A girl named Anna Graham who loves anagrams?
That spells fun!

I am Anna Graham,
Anna Graham I am --
With letters and words
I like to play around.

From here to there,
From there to here,
Hidden words 
Are everywhere.

I eat scrambled eggs,
I see scrambled jets,
But what's even better
Is to scramble letters.

I've been found
To nag a ram --
No need to frown,
To happen it's bound
When I switch around
The parts of anagram.

Am I the only one
Who lets out a "wow"
When own becomes won
And then won becomes now?

Do you understand
How a gentleman
Becomes an elegant man?
By the switcheroo ruse
Of the versatile anagram.

I love to see a butterfly
Flutter-by my eye;
This is what I get
When letters are switched
Ever so slight.

I went to the cinema
To catch a nice flick,
There I met an iceman
And he held an ice pick;
This sorta thing happens
When letters get switched.

My parents are eternal fans
Of this gyrating rocker-man
(I think my dad called him Elvis
Right before he cracked his pelvis
From doing his darndest
To cut a jig) --
I thought this "king" was history,
Then I hear a crazy conspiracy:
Something interesting is found
When his name becomes an anagram,
And that something is...
Elvis Lives!

I visited my sis at college,
On her I dropped some knowledge:
"This place is a disgrace!
It could really use a broom."
But with shock on her face,
My sissy to me did say:
"Anna Graham! Anna Graham!
Of all people around,
You should know better --
I can't help that the letters
In dormitory turn into
Dirty room...so boom!"

In Sunday School I was told
A story that's really kinda old
About a kid named David
And a giant named Goliath
Who lived in a time so long ago;
The big fella got leveled
(So the tale goes)
By this kid David
And a lone stone;
What I later found out
(It made me want to shout) :
If I rearrange the "liath"
And mess around with "Go,"
What do I get?
This lesson and this message...
HIT GOAL!
Well what do ya know?

Oh what new things can be found
When you use this thing the anagram
To scramble letters all around!

Yours truly,
Anna Graham

SUPER B!

Between boroughs and 'burbs, behold this blurb 'bout the letter B --
it's truly superB!

Big Benny Bulger bought big beefy bulky burgers at bustling Burger Box.
Bill Bing Brock built buildings between blocks by building with blocks.

Brookborough's bungling burglar broke into backs of burgundy bungalows.
But between burglaries the bandit boogie-bebopped by bluegrass banjo.

Blake burnt Betsy's brittle breakfast-bacon bit by blackened bite.
But Blake bounced back by baking brilliant blueberry bagels b-right.

Biscuits bathed in butter bust buttons by bulging bellies big.
But business blesses bank books of budgeting billionaire bigwigs.

By the by, Billy B. Bobbins bought bunches of bags of buns.
But Brother Bobbins bestowed the bread on a beggin' bum.

Boy's bouncy blue ball buoyantly bounced by bedrooms and backdoors.
Busy babies in bumper-buggies babble and burp in Bay Bea's Bookstore.

Bump! Boo! A boogie-bogey buzzes by Bella Baker's Barbie bed.
Besides Bella's brother Bobby bustled through briars but bled.

Blind black bats badly bullied and bedeviled boys bearing backpacks.
But beautiful butterflies breezed by bringing boys blessed bliss back.

There's a lot in POP...

My Pop hates pop 
But likes pop.
Pop! The pop popped 
With a pop.

The cop drank pop 
While listening to pop 
With his Pop.
My Pop knew a cop 
Named Pop 
Who liked to drink pop 
And listen to pop. 
Then one day he stopped 
Because the pop 
Almost caused him to pop.

The pop will make you bop.
The pop will make your ears pop 
And your head bop
Until your Pop makes it stop.
Do you bop to pop?

The pop popped,
Then it flopped
And finally it stopped.
You will flop 
Without the pop.

Have you ever had 
A glop of pop?
And if you had 
A glop of pop,
Would you want 
It to stop?

Pop makes me hop 
Until I stop.
Would you hop for pop?
When would you stop?
Have you ever hopped 
At a pop-hop
Until you hopped 
Right out of your socks?
And when you stopped,
Did you drink some pop?

If you spill the pop,
You will need to mop.
How can you mop 
While drinking pop?
You can hop to pop 
Until it's time to stop.
But if you hop to pop 
While drinking pop,
You will need to stop 
Or you'll need to mop.

Is it time to shop for pop?
Would you hop and stop 
At the pop-shop
To shop for pop?
Pop stopped at the pop-shop 
To shop for pop.

Pop popped the top 
Of the bottle of pop.

If the pop drops 
With a pop,
You will need to sop
The pop with a mop.

Who stops at a hilltop coffee shop
With his laptop
And orders pop?

"That pop really makes the pop pop!,"
Said Pop.

"Why do you sop on the countertop?,"
Asked Pop.
"I sop because I dropped
Pop on the countertop,"
Said I to Pop.
"If you don't hop 
To the sop of the pop
On the countertop,"
Replied Pop,
"You will soon need a mop."

Poppy popped by 
And brought Poppie and I
A lot of pop
Which we drank 
While jammin' to pop
Until  we almost popped.

You are about to enter an alternate dimension.
It is a place of circular reality.
Welcome to THE O ZONE..

Lend me yOur attentiOn and prestO!
I take yOu tO anOther dimensiOn -- maestrO!
Strike up the band, give us a crescendO
And make it fittingly eerie and weirdO.

O! BefOre we gO,
One thing tO knOw:

In this alternate wOrld,
The Only reality allOwed
Must have an ending
With that circular vOwel...

*

Greetings have new meaning --
"O, O, O!"

Answers are backwards --
"yakO"

cOnverse in reverse --
lOcO lingO

Gaze at the bluish blaze --
indigO infernO

Bad weather takes fOrever --
slO-mO tOrnadO

PrOpOrtiOns are distOrted --
jumbO ratiO

Trees grOw in threes --
envirO triO

tOxins aren't OptiOns --
nO tObaccO Or tacO

Exercise is Only visualized --
bizarrO cardiO

hOspitals made Of crystals --
ecO placebO

bOOgie steppin' is a weapOn --
discO judO

ChOirs have pOwers --
altO superherO

Traffic is static --
zerO tempO

Office blOcks interlOck --
legO metrO

A minOtaur is a restaurateur --
beastO bistrO

A liOn is a business titan --
leO the ceO

E.T.s are DJs --
ufO radiO

*

If yOu feel yOurself missing 
The wOrld yOu've always knOwn,
nO need fOr stressing --
yOu are nOw exiting 
The O zOne.

© Matt Decker

"Orb It!" (Spheres of Influence)

A glowing ball of orange intervenes in a horrific apartment fire,

saving many lives and averting complete disaster.

Dani Leonetti squeezes the heirloom crucifix in her trembling palm. It feels as if her heart will soon beat right out of her chest. The walls of her country-themed living room flicker with the chaotic images of breaking news.

       

The city's largest apartment building is ablaze with the fiery fury of a rapidly expanding inferno. The scene is tragic and horrifying. But even these two adjectives seem inadequate to describe Dani's inner turmoil. For, it happens, the devoted wife and mother has a strong connection to the event. That connection is named Victor. Her loving husband, superhero of a father to her young son and veteran firefighter. "Dear Lord, please surround Vic with Your angels," she silently prays. "And help him to help all those poor people."

       

The youngest Leonetti sits on the floor, transfixed, gazing up at the unfolding tragedy on the television screen. "Little Vic," as he's known, aspires to be a firefighter like his dad in the years yet to come. Dani wonders to herself, looking at her captivated son, if he really comprehends the seriousness of what's before him. The full scope of the tragedy. And the very real uncertainty of whether his dad will make it home again. Then she hears Little Vic mumbling something over and over.

       

"Vic-to-ry. Vic-to-ry. Vic-to-ry."

       

Dani smiles as she glances at the family portrait hanging above the television. One word graces the bottom of the gilded frame: VICTORY. The trembling heart of a worried wife and mother begins to calm with hope and faith.

FIRE IN THE SKY

"This is Hell."

       

These three words reverberate in Victor Leonetti's quickened mind. Angry waves of intense heat sweep over him - as if the very windows of Torment have been opened. The courageous firefighter has but two goals on this day: extinguish this orange monster and see his beloved family again. On this side of eternity. Both goals, however, threaten to slip away with each excruciatingly-long minute.

       

Plumes of smoke billow from the high-rise structure, black as night, though the day's sun hasn't set. A cruel but fitting symbol for the bleakness of the situation. Screams are temporarily interrupted by the sound of falling debris, crashing below. It's hard to see, hard to think, through the chaos.

       

"Hey sir! Sir, no! You can't go in there!"

       

Victor turns to see a heartbreaking sight. A frantic man is having to be restrained by police from entering the burning building. "Get off me," the man demands with a desperate voice tinged with fury and panic. "My family is in there! Don't you understand that?" At this moment, the pleading stranger turns and briefly makes eye contact with Victor. The look on the man's face strikes him at his core. Waves of compassion and sadness well up within him. A force that's equal in power to the incessant rush of heat bombarding him.

       

Victor looks up in the direction of the man's pointing and trembling finger. There he spots a woman on the balcony, weeping and clutching her toddler son. What's that she's screaming? Victor can't make it out at first. Finally he manages to read her lips.

       

"PLEASE SAVE MY SON! FORGET ABOUT ME! SAVE MY SON!"

       

Instantly he thinks about his own precious family. What if that were Dani and Little Vic up there on that balcony, inches and moments away from a fiery end? He recoils at the thought. And he can't imagine that he would put up any less of a fight than that poor man, still vainly struggling with the police.

       

No human is immune to the stress of seemingly hopeless situations, even highly-trained and elite professionals. This holds true for one Victor Leonetti. The blaze, with all its collateral horror, appears to get worse by the minute, despite the unified intervention of the city's finest. Victor knows that he must fight off despair and focus on the task at hand. Too much is at stake for...Well, he can't let himself think about the alternative. So he utters but one word over and over.

       

"Vic-to-ry. Vic-to-ry. Vic-to-ry."

       

Suddenly the woman on the balcony raises both arms above her head, grasping a small object between her hands. Victor squints, trying to see through the smoke. Finally he realizes what's about to happen. The realization hits him with sickening force. The distressed woman, in a desperate attempt to save her son's young life, is mere seconds away from tossing the wailing child into the congregation of firefighters below. Way below. For she is seven stories up.

       

"This can't end well," thinks Victor.

       

Before the hopeless mother can carry out her plan, however, she is knocked flat on her back by a powerful force. A loud, physically jolting force. Victor can see her through the balcony railing, on her back, embracing her son and instinctively trying to shield him. What just happened? The immediate assumption is that an explosion has occurred somewhere within the building. 

       

For some reason, Victor suddenly experiences a disruption in the normal flow of Time. Everything begins to move in ultra slow motion. At least that's how he perceives the hellish reality that's unfolding before his stinging eyes. He notices a mass raising of heads and fingers upward - in the blackened sky above the top of the building. In what seems like an inordinate amount of time, he too lifts his head toward the heavens. Then he sees it. Oh...God...no. A glowing ball of orange. It appears to be a fireball, and under it are dozens of vulnerable lives - including his own. Victory? That seems a tad ambitious to him at the moment. 

       

In an instant, Victor's perception returns to normal speed. And he is welcomed back by an even higher degree of havoc. Fear. Panic. Screams. Hands cover heads. Those fortunate tenants who have managed to exit the apartment building, the ones on the bottom floors, rush to seek shelter across the street. Spectators do the same. Any minute now, so it's assumed, that thing will fall with fiery fury. 

       

But the fireball doesn't descend. Not at all. Instead, against laws of logic and physics, it remains hovering in the same spot where first observed - directly above the roof of the blazing building. Furthermore, Victor observes, there are no flames emanating from it. On the contrary, it appears that flames are somehow being drawn into it. 

       

What "fireball" does THAT?

       

The crowd watches in shocked silence. Civilians, firefighters, police officers, news media. Not a single face looks anywhere but up. The scene reminds Victor of the collective mesmerizing induced by a solar eclipse. The luminous ball of orange, once thought to be a fireball, even resembles a small sun. But unlike an eclipse, there are no shadows being cast from above. The levitating object, in fact, seems to get brighter by the second. But that's hardly the most noteworthy aspect of this unbelievable phenomenon. 

       

The once-roaring inferno has considerably dwindled in both size and intensity. That thing is absorbing the fire into itself! A cool and calming breeze sweeps over the crowd. Afterwards, multiple witnesses agree that it was like the orange sphere was saying, I got this. In less than fifteen minutes, not even an ember remains of the blaze. Victor rushes into the building, along with his fatigued comrades, to help those trapped inside.

       

News cameras are rolling. Phones are pointed skyward. Before nightfall, the incredible footage will go viral. Surely this will go down as the most documented and irrefutable paranormal event in human history?

VICTORY CALLS

It is quiet at the Leonetti house. Externally, at least. The horrific news images have faded to black. Dani made the decision to shut off the television before the fire reached its spectacular conclusion. She discerned that her son's fascination with the event was turning to distress. After all, that's his dad in the middle of all the horror. Now Little Vic is fast asleep in his bed, following some reassuring words from his mom.

       

Dani wishes for the blessing of unconsciousness as well. Then she could enjoy a break from her worry. For, although it's quiet in the house, the booming thunder of negative emotions within her is deafening. All she wants right now is to hear from Victor. To hear his voice. To know he's okay, and that he'll be home soon. She refuses to get on social media, for fear of hearing the worst. So she remains unaware of the video footage that is presently setting the world abuzz.

       

Finally, and mercifully, it happens. Victor calls. Tears of thankful relief moisten her already reddened eyes. She has never answered a phone so fast in her life.

       

Little Vic, unbeknownst to his joyfully distracted mother, has awoken and stands in his bedroom doorway. Quickly he figures out that it's "SuperDad" on the other end of the conversation. He pumps his little fist, turns and grabs the child-sized firefighter helmet that his father bought for him. Climbing back into bed, he cradles it against his chest. One word stares back at him, affixed to the front of the helmet: Victory.

* * *

THE O.R.B. CORPS

Research Report Regarding Observed Radiant Being

Official Designation: OCX-1

Nickname: FIREBALL

Glow Color: Orange

Influence: Power over fire

Observed Action: Extinguished fire by absorbing the flames into itself

Mechanism: Unknown

Researcher Notes: "While many lives were saved by this entity, all field investigators should exercise extreme caution. We are apparently dealing with a new life form here on our planet, and there is much we don't know. Hence the reason for the formation of this organization. There could be others."

* * *

"There could be others."

       

Indeed.

    

   

A boy is inadvertently given the gift of a "pet" orb.

🙇

Welcome, my friends, to bustling New York -

The port of lore, the door to more,

Abounding, of course, in scores of stores

And words and Fords and public transport.

Adored by humans of every sort,

Inviting all to come and explore.

Now meet a small boy whose name is George.

There's not much his parents can't afford.

His father has appeared within the pages of Forbes -

A mover and a shaker, a business force.

George was given a toy as a reward

For doing quite well on his school report.

This toy was special, a foreign import,

A cube with a door and a string, in short,

Perfect for George, since he wasn't the sort

To socialize much or play in any sport.

What no one knew, no one but George

Was that inside the cube lived an orb -

An intelligent ball of light named Zorb,

Who could float, fly, flash and even morph

Into any shape, to the amusement of George,

Released by George pulling the cord.

On the cube was printed a single word.

"What is Gorb?," asked George,

"That's my planetary source," claimed Zorb.

This orb couldn't speak verbs or any words.

Instead he blinked the thoughts toward George.

Anytime George felt disturbed, perturbed or ignored,

Like the dark day his parents got divorced,

Zorb would lovingly blink his support.

"Who needs a sword," thought George,

"Or even the hammer of Thor,

When I have a superb orb?"

So here's the report

If you can absorb it,

When a problem came forth,

George would just "orb" it.

© Matt Decker

Going Quantum

Using his advanced knowledge of the quantum world,

an evil physicist devises a way to make people disappear.

Dr. Maximillan Williams is some kind of brilliant;

Too bad he has to, in fact, be a villain.

In his classes he was always the quietest,

Lost in deep thoughts about the sciences,

Perpetually tinkering with newfangled appliances,

Never the least bit interested in social alliances,

Voted by his peers:

MOST LIKELY TO NEED A PSYCHIATRIST

"This great big world I see --

It's not everything, is it?"

Asked young Max to himself;

So he set about to find out

All he could about quantum physics.

So quick to learn,

His teachers did discern,

As they witnessed his mind churn;

He seemed destined and headed

On a collision course with CERN.

But somewhere along the way,

Something went horribly amiss;

The curious student of Nature

Transitions into evil scientist.

While writing a paper on Quantum MECHANICS,

His nefarious neurons had a thought --

(Genius but also quite satanic)

Why didn't he open his own auto body shop?

"If I look and act the part,

Pretending I can tend to cars,

I'll project an image

Of being honest and fair;

Then folks will bring me

Their vehicles for repair.

I can call the ruse MOTOR CORTEX,

It's a clever pun;

Inside I'll create a quantum vortex --

He he, this should be fun!

I'll convert engines into inimical inventions,

Spinning wheels into diminutive dimensions.

That kooky Doc Brown

And his flux capacitor?

Ha! My auto tweak --

Worlds more spectacular.

As the maniacal molecule manipulator,

I'll give new meaning to particle ACCELERATOR --

When unsuspecting drivers step on the gas,

Into the quantum realm they will pass.

Who needs a weapon

That's astronomic

When I can make victims

Go subatomic?"

Ever since the fiendish genius

Went all loco and psychopathic,

There's been a tragic and drastic

Decrease in the streets of traffic.

Speculation runs rampant,

As does the chatter:

Mass alien abduction?

Or something biblical --

The Rapture?

But in that sort of scenario,

Who could the cops capture?

It will be a while

Before Maximillan's brought to trial;

Meanwhile he'll smirk and smile

While teleporting motorists

Into quantum exile.

Perhaps the worst kind of devil

Is the one who can bedevil

On the molecular level.

Legend has it that a special suit exists, 
enabling its wearer to "jump" into alternate dimensions.
One man finds the legend is indeed fact.

💥

Might the legends be true?
Or merely an imagined ado?

Could it be more than a myth?
Might it actually exist?

Encased in glass,
Perfectly preserved
From decades past,
Rarely observed.

Black as the night,
Lined with gray,
Quantum technology
Integrated someway.

Why am I blessed
With this privileged access?
I cannot begin
To venture a guess.
I ask in my mind,
But I remain speechless.

I don't even recall
How in this place I came to be.
Two men walked me down a hall,
After snatching me off the street.

If my memory serves me,
They haven't uttered a word -
Merely escorted me through
A maze of corners and doors.

As I turn around
To find out what this is about,
The candle of my consciousness
Abruptly is snuffed out.

The next thing I know,
When finally I come to,
My body feels different -
Oh, I am wearing the storied suit!

From the shadows of the room,
Suddenly a hand appears.
An authoritative voice booms,
"To shield you from doom,
This helmet you must wear."

My heart pounds,
My mind races.
Still I haven't found
What even this place is.

I have so many questions
Which I lack the nerve to pose.
I get the strong impression
That somewhere epic
I am about to go.

Next I hear a sound,
Beginning in the foreground.
Soon it does surround.
My mind it does confound,
My confusion it does compound.
Frantically I look around
Into the shadows
But not a soul can be found.
This audio I'm hearing -
Louder and louder 
It does resound.

A nonhuman voice then speaks,
Digital in tone:
"Fifteen seconds to The Jump" -
Wait, that isn't very long!

Jump? Jump? Can it really be? 
Then the stories are true.
Oh this I can't believe!

As the countdown finishes,
And I near the last blip,
Two voices say in unison,
"Have a nice trip."

I close my eyes.
What will happen next?
My breath I hold,
My muscles I flex.

In a flash my reality changes,
Everything suddenly rearranges.

I feel that I am moving
At an incredible speed.
I feel nothing solid
Below my booted feet.

I have the distinct sensation
Of flying through the air.
My eyelids are still shut.
Open them do I dare?

I hear a loud whoosh,
Akin to a rushing wind.
I feel a mighty force
Hitting this super suit I'm in.

Eventually I open my eyes,
Reclaiming my sight.
I am mesmerized and hypnotized
By brilliantly colorful flashes of light.

Before I have the chance
To process the next thought,
The prismatic light show
Abruptly comes to a halt.

The journey is over,
The Jump is complete.
Once again earthly ground
Lies beneath my feet.

I'm not in a room.
Instead I am outside.
Why, this is my hometown!
But something isn't right.

There are the stores and shops
Where I always like to go.
But they should be over there,
On the opposite side of the road.

And who are these people?
I don't recognize any face.
What's going on here?
What is this place?

There is the old welcome sign,
Where it has always remained.
But the letters are wrong.
Did they change the name?

As quickly as possible
I procure a map whereupon
Opening it I fail to recognize
Any of the data printed thereon.

Locating a cop,
I ask where I am.
The words from his lips
Do not name my hometown.

Confused and frustrated,
I collapse on the curb,
When I hear in my helmet
These digitized words:

"Quantum Jump Successful" 
Then I snap to attention.
What do you know?
I've jumped to an alternate dimension!

All due to this amazing suit.
The fable is really a fact.
Now all that's left
Is the matter of jumping back.

Embark on a cosmic journey to discover the energy field
that creates all matter and connects all living things.

🌟

If you will be so kind
To lend me your time,
I'll lead you on a climb
Of the metaphysical kind;
Just one cautionary rhyme --
Don't stand too close behind
Your presently cherished paradigm.

From various cosmic residences
Arrive messages of ethereal elegance,
Offering majestic evidence
Of Infinite Intelligence.

You are about to meet personalities
Who all vibrate in different realities;
Yet each one figuratively swims in the
Same invisible sea of quantum energy.

Extraterrestrial races,
Unearthly faces,
Outlandish places --
Traces still of THE FIELD...

* * *

"I am Xteerah,
Birthed in The Crystal Caves
Of Angkthera;
I am a warrior,
Reducing all my enemies to nil,
For I've mastered
The secrets of The Field."

* * *

"I am Gyxu,
My planet is bathed
In a purplish hue;
It is a plane
Of constant change,
We make all things new --
It helps us tap into
The power of The Field."

* * *

"I am Kazallazxa,
Governing Commander
Of the world Xa --
A place that's utterly aqua;
Water is our reality,
No land at all but still,
Still we deal
With the effects of The Field."

* * *

"I am Qo,
My home is known as Cebes;
I'm a member of a species
Who glow;
Each luminous pulse
Is a synched result
Of the energy in The Field."

* * *

"I am Lyrryos,
Our star is Sirius;
If you landed on our planet,
You wouldn't see us --
No sign of life around,
For we dwell underground,
Call us subterranean aliens,
Yet no matter how deep we build,
It weakens not The Field."

* * *

"I am Majnus Cymterii,
I'm a luminary
In the constellation of Cygnus;
It is my mission
To teach the worlds
In my system
The rules of The Field."

* * *

"I am Oood,
My habitation is Thace;
Even if you somehow could
Reach every nook of Space,
Still you would
Never ever find this place;
No condescension intended,
Yet we know it taxes human comprehension
To accurately conceptualize parallel dimensions;
This observation notwithstanding,
Just like you,
We are standing
On the terrain of The Field."

* * *

No matter the galaxy,
Among any star family,
One truth would be revealed --
Many worlds but One Field.

Understanding illusions,
Mirages of the mind --
That's the solution
To navigating Space-Time.

There is force behind The Field,
Much more than a shield;
It links every life form --
From advanced celestial beings
To the lowliest earthworm.

Just when you think 
You know what's real,
You collide with this thing,
This thing called The Field.

Just when you think
You know all the basics,
You awaken to this thing,
This thing called The Matrix.

All situations seem dire,
The future ominous,
Until one becomes wired
Into the grid of consciousness.

It's only as real
As you think and feel --
That's the deal
Within The Field.

Watch your step,
Awaken or be killed;
You are traversing
The invisible MindField.

The only thing that matters
About all universal matter
Is this all-important matter
Of the Mind behind all matter.

© Matt Decker

(For more sci-fi stories, order my book SPACE & RHYME)

What Can Happen in One Minute?

The countdown begins...

1:00

The blessing of birth

The existence of Earth --

Shouldn't these stoke my faith

In the Divine's miracle grace?

:50

The light of day

Each breath I take

There's a reason

I have survived --

Hope is alive.

My hope is revived.

:40

Like the one around Jericho long ago

This wall too shall be brought low.

:35

Through the flood and through the fire

No darkness can overpower.

The devil is a liar;

I am empowered and inspired

By higher power and fire.

:25

The Nazarene calmed the sea.

He will do the same for me.

:20

The Master snapped oppressive chains

And quenched Hell's scorching flames --

Has He changed?

He's the same.

:10

Heaven's blessing

Angelic protection

The armor of God

With spiritual weapons.

:05

Verses given

Curses lifted

Answered questions

Priceless lessons.

:00

Laws of nature suspended.

Impossibility upended.

(Adapted from my poem MIRACLE MINUTE)

Little Stories

For the tiny inhabitants of Miniopolis, size matters...

Kurt Millican, oozing beads of summer sweat, surveys the freshly-cut lawn. The exhausted insurance agent peels his sticky shirt from his pot belly and uses it to wipe his scorched face. He breathes a dehydrated sigh of relief as he sees his lovely and loving wife, Lisa, approaching with a tall glass of ice water.

"You look a bit...parched." Lisa playfully grins while handing her man the rapidly-warming refreshment.

"Ah, you always know just what I need." Kurt reaches for the glass with a sun-burnt arm. "What would I do without my water girl?"

"I don't know," she quips with a smirk, "and don't call me that." The suburban couple both giggle in the heat, scanning the lush landscape of their backyard.

After gulping the water in what surely must be record time, Kurt begins to inquire about the evening plans. "So what do you --"

Lisa interrupts, grabbing her hubby's arm. "Wait a minute. Do you hear that? Listen."

He lowers his moist eyebrows in confusion. "Hear what, honey? I don't --"

Lisa quickly places her finger on his lips to induce silence. She is not a librarian, but she plays one in this moment.

Kurt amusingly watches his beloved as she tip-toes around the yard, searching for the source of whatever she hears. Her investigation ultimately leads to the patch of grass behind the parked mower. She bends down on all fours.
       
A voice speaks from above.

"Watch out for the ants, honey." Kurt is now standing over her, trying his darnedest to pick up the sound waves. So far? Nothing. "What is it? I mean, what kind of sound is it?"

Lisa raises her head and looks up at Kurt. Those eyes. Bright, blue and beautiful. They were the first feature he noticed about her, way back in the day. He composed a poem about them while they were dating. Not exactly a literary gem, but still. And these years later, they still mesmerize him.

On this occasion, however, they reflect something other than sentimental affection. They are saturated with confusion. "You mean, you still don't hear it?"

Kurt slowly shakes his head in the negative. "Sweetheart, you know that my hearing ain't the greatest. And I just climbed off that roaring machine there. My ears haven't fully recovered yet."

Lisa reaches up for a helping hand. "That is really weird," she says on the way up. "It sounds like...almost like...tiny voices screaming out for help." The incredulous expression on her analytical partner's sweaty face doesn't go unnoticed. "I know how ridiculous that sounds," she acknowledges. She can all but read Kurt's thought: Do you? She continues. "I wish I could at least figure out where exactly it's coming from."

Perceiving her exasperation, Kurt places a consoling hand on her back. "Well honey, sometimes the great outdoors can be a very mysterious place." A few moments of awkward silence dissipate into the sunshine. "As I'm sure you'll agree, I'm in desperate need of a shower. See you in a bit."

Lisa stares at the ground with a mixture of curiosity and consternation. Kurt proceeds to return the mower to the shed.

Meanwhile, in a land not too far away, a different version of reality has unfolded...

TERROR FROM ABOVE

It's a dark day. The usually-bustling city has come to a dramatic and tragic halt. It is a horrific scene. Devastation everywhere. Destruction all around. Chaos on every corner. 

What has happened here? What could have wreaked such nightmarish havoc? For the answer, let us take a few short steps back in time...

EARLIER IN THE DAY

The city park, hosting a birthday party, is packed with happy children and filled with their playful squeals and laughter. Two mothers are discussing the usual: work issues, school concerns, church functions and whatnot. Suddenly, the casual conversation takes a decidedly alarming turn.

"Did you hear that? Is that thunder?"
"I really don't think so. Thunder doesn't continuously roar like that."
"Well, what is it? Where is it coming from?"
"Listen! It's getting louder. It must be getting nearer."
"It sounds like it's coming from behind that hill over there."
"Oh...my...God!"

In this moment, the air space is horrifyingly violated by monstrous, screaming blades of a metal vortex. The tops of gleaming skyscrapers are chopped off like locks of hair at a barbershop. Terrorized citizens run for their lives. The deafening howl of the rampaging invader drowns out the blood-curdling screams of the people. 
       
In one hellish instant, the radiant sunshine of a glorious day becomes a massive shadow as the growling giant rolls overhead. Day becomes night. Light becomes darkness. Gargantuan wheels tear through the landscape of the once-beautiful city, leaving deep canyons in their wake. Decades of extensive and expensive construction projects undone in a matter of minutes. Gone -- just like that.

YOU ARE HERE

"Welcome" to the itty-bitty city of Miniopolis. It's unfortunate that you couldn't visit on a happier day. This place is very much like the geographical location you call home. The only difference is one of scale.

Theoretically, you could hold the tiny city of Miniopolis in the palm of one hand, with plenty of room to spare. Lisa Millican failed to see it because, though trained as a security professional, her eyes were unable to perceive the scene at such a miniature scale. It's a small world, after all.

As it happens, the itty-bitty city of Miniopolis isn't a stand-alone phenomenon. True, it is the focus of our story. But the reality is that there are many millions of these diminutive civilizations spread across this big blue rock. You will never eye them on any map. Real estate, as we understand it up here, is not really an issue. They don't require much space. It's a small world, after all.

GOOD NEWS

Don't worry about the victimized Miniopolians. Feel compassion, yes. But they will recover. For, you see, they are master builders and master rebuilders. It's a forced mastery - developed from having to live each and every minute under the feet of giants.

Does size matter? Ask the tiny inhabitants of itty-bitty Miniopolis. If you can spot them, that is. Just be careful to not squash them.

It's a small world, after all.

What happens when a miniature UFO visits a coffee shop?

🌟 🌟 🌟

Meet Zask and Zisk,
See them venture forth --
They know little
About the destination,
Only that it's an energy station
On a big blue world
Known to locals as Earth.

"Look at that!"
Exclaims Zask,
"We are in luck --
This structure must be a gateway
To the stars in exchange for bucks."

The transparent portal opens
And the two cautiously fly through
Into an aromatic atmosphere,
Wondering what's about to brew.

"Here's an interesting tidbit,"
Offers Zask to Zisk,
"Our ships are called 'flying saucers'
Here on this oversized planet."
To which Zisk sarcastically replies,
"Well that's just ridiculously awesome,
Now would you please just can it?"

"I know the ride's been bumpy
But must you be so grumpy?"
Asks Zask to Zisk
From an elongated throat
Beginning to feel quite lumpy.

Between the text-backs and paperbacks
And the tap-taps and chit-chat,
Zisk and Zask hover undetected
Over these life forms so distracted.

"Home Base! Home Base!
Calling Home Base --
Why have you sent us
To this odd and noisy place?"

Tho' transmitted far from nigh,
Quickly comes back the reply:

"Navigator Zisk and Navigator Zask,
Yours is a mission of deduction
With a reconnaissance function --
So focus on the task
And await further instructions."

Zisk points out a place to land
On a wide strip of land,
Making sure Zask understands
To watch for the jittery giant hands.

"Tsk! Tsk! I know this, Zisk!
I'm not exactly new at this."

So without ado,
Boom or pop,
The scaled-down craft
Lands on the countertop.

There the saucer rests
Without drawing attention --
An inconspicuous arrival
From an alien dimension.

Meanwhile within the cockpit,
Zask and Zisk sit and wait
As they observe the human chatter
And clatter of cups and plates.

Suddenly and abruptly,
A bogey descends with a crash
On top of Zisk and Zask --
"We are under attack!"
Yells Zisk to Zask;
"Don't you think I know that?"
To Zisk yells back Zask,
"What in this world is that?"

Then into the chaos,
From a place deep in Space,
An urgent message reverberates
From the bowels of Home Base:

"RED ALERT! RED ALERT!
We tell you the truth --
A hot handled hostile
Has come down on your roof,
So ascend and abort!"

The trendy human specimens
Stare in utter disbelief
As the latte levitates
With the rising saucer underneath.

Up goes the mug
On one unsteady ride,
Splashing its frothy contents
Over its ceramic sides.

After the saucer zips away
Into the light of day,
Zask and Zisk let out sighs
And in unison the duo say:
"So that's why they call this
The Milky Way!"

Back home in the domain
Of their otherworldly plane,
Zisk and Zask feel disdain
As they strain to explain
Why and how their saucer
Now has a giant coffee stain.

A failure discovers the "magic" of the small --
from a miniature genie...

🔥 🔥 🔥

Have you heard the skinny on Lenny Mangini?
This fellow dreamed of a yellow Lamborghini
And the good life of more, much and plenty,
But Lenny's pockets lacked any profits or pennies.

Plagued by malaise and chronic sickness,
Two failed marriages and a bankrupt business.

Always on the lookout for a bargain,
Lenny liked to visit the flea market.
He bought himself a like-new parka.

One day he felt something in the pocket.
Inside he discovered a shiny golden object -
A special lighter with, let's say, a special effect.

Lenny made an attempt to ignite it,
But only sparks - Lenny couldn't light it.

"Just my luck," he said, "the thing is a dud."
So he chucked it into the trash with a thud.

"Wait a minute," he thought, "it's made of gold.
How much moolah for me if the thing is sold?"

Then the wastebasket began to shake and gyrate,
As the lighter within began to buzz and vibrate.

Suddenly the thing is flying toward his head.
Fortunately Lenny catches it instead.

His nervous hands struggled to hold it.
Still he felt compelled to give it a flick.

Up came the flame - exceptionally warm.
Somehow and someway - it morphed into a form.

"What in the world?," asked an upended Lenny
As he stared and glared at a bona fide genie.
You know, like Aladdin or I Dream of Jeannie -
Only this genie was teeny like a mini Houdini.

But before Lenny can make any wishes,
This apparition drops some serious wisdom:

"Would you believe I received this gig
To do away with the myth of the big?

Not all genies live in bottles and lamps.
I can help you, Lenny, become a champ.

I realize you're surprised by my size,
But it really doesn't count.
All your wishes can be granted -
No matter the amount.

The joy you can enjoy is unlimited,
Flowing and ongoing to ad infinitum,
If you can only grasp the definitive
Impact of the small and diminutive.

It is a shame and a pity
That all over this city,
People tend to miss the
Power of the itty-bitty.

It would be truly tragic
If you should miss the magic.

Little victories
Make history.

Simple chores
Win wars.

Modest principles
Work miracles.

You can sometimes go the extra mile
On the wheels of a single smile.

You will find help
In each small step.

Tiny tweaks are shiny seeds.
Daily deeds lead you to succeed.

Big doors swing on small hinges.
Progress is processed in inches.

When your goals are a no-show,
And your big ideas a no-go,
Shrink down to the micro.

When it seems impossible,
And it appears there's no way,
Think it not improbable -
You're only a tweak or two away.

This will blow your mind -
Take heed to the small
And you will surely find
You don't need me at all.

If you transition from wishin' to decision,
There'll be no need for any genie or magician."

So ends the skinny on Lenny Mangini
And the day he met a mini genie
Who made Lenny much wiser
By the quick flick of a lighter.

© Matt Decker