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GOD loves art...

You didn’t come this far to stop

The Art & Literary work of Artist/Poet RE Romero Probst

The Artistic Expression

From a theological viewpoint, God is often regarded as the "ultimate artist" or "Creator," and the artistic expression found in humans is seen as a reflection of being created in His likeness. This implies a divine admiration for creativity and art.

God as Creator:

The Bible begins with God forming the heavens and the earth, crafting our earth with incredible beauty and diversity, from towering mountains to complex plants and creatures. This intrinsic beauty in creation serves as a reflection of God's artistic character and a wellspring of inspiration for humankind.

Humans as Image-Bearers:

Being made in God's image (Genesis 1:27) signifies that humans intrinsically participate in His creative essence and possess the ability to create. When individuals engage in creation, they are mirroring the thoughts of their Creator.

...humans as artists

Humans as artists. Being made in God's spirit signifies that humans participate in the creative essence and possess the ability to create. When individuals engage in creation, they are an innocent tool of their Creator.

infant infinity...

Humankind reflects on the divine within humanity's 'childlike eternity'. Ultimately, individuals prioritize their own desires.

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The Temptation of the Mortal Man

Open your minds and listen. Open your hearts and act.

Our mistakes and achievements made in the course of our living are merely the price of our commitment to honor man's role in the framework of God's creation. Both are important. Failure to learn from them is our dishonor.

The infant Universe grows with each road traveled.

The Odyssey of Living and Dying and Living

And then, by no end, once again across the universe I hear you call out those words to me. They rang pure as they entered into me.
I was stunned as I heard you speak. You spoke of love and of caring. You spoke of kindness and understanding.

I smiled as I heard the sweet sound of words fall from the stars and enter into my heart. They sounded of soft laughter and tender whispers. They were clear as pure water and rang out like crystal bells. They touched me as I lay on the soft green grass in the fields of the mother of our fates. They floated across the countryside like a cool light breeze.

Your words traveled to where the children play, and rested in their ears. The fruits of those words are overheard, the young girl sighs, the young boys smile.
With sparkling eyes they fill their hearts with the diamonds of their lives. They remain as innocent as when they entered the gates of the living.

And never a bad word is spoken about the Angel whose heart had broken. Who, lost in play, thinks only of brighter days.

The Spoken Message

Some Dreams need to be shared with and spoken of by others.
It is the messages in the words that will steal or heal our lives.

Throughout the course of written history, words of caution, warnings and words to the enlightenment have come forth out of the experiences of living.

They are examples, proverbs, passages and doctrines of the true course of the mortal life, and for all that, the lives of all living things in Eden.
They are spoken out of the conflict of God's argument for Eden.

The Reluctant Prophet

Alamar has lived and died bringing forth his thoughts and feelings to life.

He has sacrificed himself, as so many others have, in hopes that the messages of faith, character, honor and commitment may help and heal mortal man.

Alamar is but a small part in the destiny of Mortal Eden. His truth is our truth. That 'truth' is spoken by many.

Dig deep into the writings of mortal man, and seek the word of God. It will come to you in many forms, words and stories. Written by many, who hold that 'truth'.

The Death of Life

IN A LITTLE OF EACH BREATH....
A LITTLE MORE LIFE I LEAVE TOO DEATH.

Beautiful threads we weave from the life we lead. Such is our fate, to spin from what we dream we make. So beautiful they are, the webs the humans make. The destiny of every woman and man, to live and die in the webs they spin.

Vida – The Incarnation of Life

The name of Vida is derived from nurturing the earth; for the earth is sacred to this Daughter of Emanation and Spectre.

Hence, also the priests of Vida dedicate to her the earth. And Vida is the same with earth, as being the 'midwife' to all life on earthly Eden.

For this Daughter is terrestrial, and so likewise is Emanation in this incarnation. Vida is an integral part of the lives of Alamar and Randee. Vida is the link between the ethereal and the mortal world.

Vida, the secret Incarnation of the Mysteries, is standing, right arm outstretched towards the divine place. Alamar is seen kneeling, bent over, at the gateway of the path leading to the divine Vida, just above the shadow of the figure of his death.

The 'divine creation' over his covered head, emblematic of purification, symbolic of the separation of evil from good, of fruitfulness, fertility and resurrection. Emanation is seated on the clouds holding a torch on which a serpent, the symbol of the deities, is twined around it.

The Beast is extending his hand to the outstretched hand of Vida who is standing atop the mystical mountain representing 'earthly Eden'. The 'light' emanating from the 'beast' reaches the outstretched hand of Vida representative of the mystic divine rod. Emanation looks out, across the creation holding the 'light' in her right hand."

Vida, the secret Incarnation of the Mysteries

The Dream of Randee; the Poet

The poet Randee drifted into what seemed a momentary dream, his thoughts filling by the delight of his encounter with Vida, this rather seductive, almost translucent woman.

Randee is carried away, lost from the reality of his being. He is carried off into crimson sunsets and emerald seas, to castles and palaces to mountains and rivers and great cities of gold. He floats effortlessly over the treetops of great trees, and walks past the valleys and along the streams of once innocent Eden. He taste's the sweet fruits of the pleasures of living and caresses the muses under the sparkle of the jewels of the evening.........Separated from himself and his story, Randee is touched by the outstretched hand of his destiny.

As Randee snapped back from this pleasant feeling, he discovered that he was sitting at his desk, aboard his sailing craft, writing, almost not remembering that he had finished his story to the members of the club several hours earlier. In this startled awakening Randee is now found creating.

And such is how Randee entered into his role, transformed into the spirit of his contemplation's.
Randee is reawakened to his self-discovery. From manhood to his youth, in all those dreams he dreamed, all the thoughts he had thought, all the feelings that he felt. They have all been reborn into a clearer insight, a rediscovery of his life.
And though he remains as the person which he is, he is in-tune to a new light of which seems to shine crystal and clear, bringing light to so many dark and hidden things, that of which to life he brings.

The earth now hides nothing from his view. Words and art lie and try to mask the truth, giving praise and fault to those they choose.
Finding his way through this contrived place, Randee believes only in his heart and not in what he sees. And of these writings, the record of man, Randee reads and tries to understand.
And of what he reads, fed into words by Kings, fueled by their visions of supremacy.
He studies the writings, reading of their merits and tragedies, and of their countries and their armies. Of the First Dynasty, invention of writing, a landmark of our events, words of the newer man, the Old Kingdom on the plains of Eden.
From the Age of Metal to ships off stormy coast, chariots and alchemists and men armed, wielding blade and gun, spear and pike and bow and of adventurers and traders traveling the spice route to distant a place, led by gold and treasures that fill the heart and soul and to their grim idols worshipped in lonely place by isolated man in fields of flowers and on Red Sea plain. With blood and life, they came. Cradled by Eleusinian Mystery’s and of the Son of God, both created in the mystical parade of seeking the holiest of places. Great monuments seeking the heavens, tombs of self-made glory, standing lonely on desert sand, revered and thought a pinnacle of man.

From across the snow-clad mountains of the east, separating the kingdoms of separate kings, Ruin, terror creates a dark shadow. Changing forever townships and cities secluded.
Against the highest and the mightiest, fierce, with hand grasping steel and shielded by spiritual shields, Glories hardened within strength. Across the seas and over the hills, abound in rage they came. All throughout this historical history, a Gothic parade upon Victorian plate. Man hurtling across space inside the capsules of his dreams.
Of the young Americas and young lovers, of tragedy and romance, murder and marriages, Statesmen, hippies, yuppies and whores, and the hierarchy of gold seekers.

Eden came with many names as paradise was grabbed and torn and raped and reformed.
Lust and greed, love and broken dreams. War and more war. Famine and disease. A Renaissance of lifeless drawings of faces and people and places forever entombed hanging in some room. Millions and millions of timepieces ticking out our lives. A sea of schemes and more broken dreams.

Randee learned these stories. And from great books Randee got a new look inside the workings of the lives of those, which came before him. So many roads of those of Eden had traveled.

And no more shall Randee be the hero of his own earthly dreams. He is now locked into the scheme of greater things.
And still naive as to his role, his life is now opened to us all.
And through his writings, poems and discourses the strings of all our lives to which we live are now unraveled.

Strange how we each must feel being alive. Seeing and feeling the sun rise and set each day. Living, growing up, experiencing. Dreaming and seeking to reach our dreams. Trying and winning and failing and trying harder. Growing older, living while making plans to live.
And at his desk Randee sits. Words spill from his head. Long into the night Randee writes until sleep carries him off into his dreams.

Tigress

Upon this insane dance, it is living, not life that has gone mad.
Should such a seductress seek to please, she studies first, the rapture of the tease. She is seeing. She cannot wait.

We are born to see the world seducing our dreams. We are torn to feel the kiss from the truths and the lies off the lips of our living.
Off her smooth breasts honey drips, and it is tasted by the kiss of the hungry beast.
She tries to provoke pleasure and pain. The beast speaks of eternity.
No louder screams or shrills can pass her. Husbands, boyfriends, lovers cannot tear such passions from her.
Pleasure is released in the roar of the beast.
And in the pages of this book, the lovers weep.

Fire in the eyes and ashes at the feet of the great beast of life. You are that beast. The world views you with love and hate.
And know that from behind your eyes you will never be afraid to cry. And from the ashes of your life the beast again sleeps.

Lovers lose the day away to the pleasures of their living. Lost to the kisses which life unsheathes and uses as a pleasurable reminder of the empty games.
Lovers hold on tight, to afraid to live out their lives.
Emptiness betrays eternal smiles and shallow ponds are reflective where nothing spawns.
Pleasure palaces lay barren, empty of the body, which lays in death.
Living is nothing without the beasts.
Life is lover to no one.
Life makes love to its own beast, and the children that it creates, are nothing more than traps that seal the fates of the foolish that cannot see behind the creations.
The lovers sigh, betrayed by their own seduction. Life has trapped you on the throne of its teachings. Living is the tool to seduce the world into obscurity.
The beast now has no need for sleep.