I’ve spent years writing poetry without ever meaning to. It started back in the ’90s, when I was an itinerant preacher scribbling meditations on the Psalms — little reflections written in the margins of life, never meant for an audience, just meant to keep my heart steady.
I didn’t know it then, but those lines were the beginning of something that would follow me through every season of ministry, every move, every sermon, every quiet morning with a Bible and a cup of hibiscus tea. I wrote in notebooks, steno pads, scraps of paper, and eventually in this garage office — the place where my thoughts finally had room to breathe.
Then artificial intelligence showed up, and my old words found new soil.
The ideas I’d carried for decades — the half‑songs, the meditations, the prayers, the fragments — suddenly had a way to grow. AI didn’t replace my voice; it just gave me a wider field to plant in. Together we shaped lyrics that were part poem, part prayer, part testimony, all rooted in the same faith that carried me through my years on the road and into this quiet rural corner of Texas.
This book gathers those pieces — the early meditations, the garage‑office lyrics, the AI‑assisted songs — into one place. Not because they’re polished. Not because they’re perfect. But because they’re mine. They’re the record of a preacher who never stopped writing, even when he didn’t know he was writing poetry.
If these pages speak to anyone else, I’m grateful. But even if they don’t, they speak to me — and that’s reason enough to bind them together.
Impartial Grace 