Fifteen percent on the surface,
Eighty-five percent unseen
Says we should be
Paying more attention
To the unknown and
To the dream.
The world would be
More gentle then,
Less driven and
Less mean;
Less anxious that
We live in the dark, somewhere
On the water between.
More light would shine
On the shadows,
Less attention paid
To what would seem
The best of what
Comes to the surface,
The rich and the fat and
The cream.
2014.05.09.0700 ©
Life,
So invisible,
So hidden
For so many months
Now appears
Triumphantly and
Gloriously
With the return of
The light and
The warmth;
How can I
Possibly deny
A grand design and
A grand Designer?
How can I
Ever again
Fear death?
2014.04.22.0900
My walk is only as good
As the talk that stalks my thinking;
Nothing seems to move my breathing,
So there is a good place to start
Since it seems the place
That would my very life impart.
I am cold except
I have breath and a heart beat;
Dark except light enliven my soul;
Broken without connection among everything
To keep me assuredly whole.
Faith holds the key to the origin
Of the source of the light, life and breath;
Love is the redemptive force that beckons them all
With the promise of freedom from death.
So I contemplate
The rhythm of my breathing;
And I seek the warmth of the flow
Of each heart beat;
While I wander through the labyrinth
Of loves that call to me;
Finding which one will eternally repeat.
2014.03.12.0700 ©
Every day I find the same thing,
Thorns and whips and nails;
Something to suffer along the way
On the search for the Holy Grail;
Head winds and updrafts
And eddies and cascades
As I struggle to learn to sail
To float on the currents
Of the unseen darkness
Like a blind man
Reading by Braille;
Lost except for a compass within
A longing for return to good port;
Looking at the trip as a serious journey
Than rather a catch or a sport;
The water is the call of the spirit and the deep
The wind is a portent of change
My soul is a refuge from the lure of the senses
And from the world which will always seem strange.
2014.03.11.0500 ©
The Living God needs us
To accept our solitary journey and our cross
In order to continue His life today,
The life and redemptive power of His Christ.
See Col 1:24-29
It is February,
And surely by now the new year has begun;
The last of the celebrations, the Chinese lunar one, has come:
The cycle that started when the Hebrew fall harvest was spun
Has through the calendar and the belief systems religiously run
So now one might think that the search for newness is done; No
Coming soon will be Valentine’s day and the hope for a new, loving one.
Then Easter will herald a resurrection for all
When the spring time and nature will beckon and call
To the new life within us that wants to be free
And to frolic in the summer of July, independently;
Until ‘new’ would more express us as august and sober
And the warmth and the folly can be seen so clearly as over
As we must return to study the cycle of death in October
To begin to search for some light in the dark;
Where once again, good religion would find reason to hark
The birth of a new light and a redeeming hope to spark
To set off some fireworks and a new year to mark.
2014.02.05.0300 ©
The world has so little soul
Because it has forgotten its earliest journey;
Its journey in the darkness and the silence of the womb:
In a time before time began,
When the Eternal spoke to us more than this day
And I did not think I had so much to hear or to say.
Alone was everything and nothing
Because I had all I could need
Floating in an ocean of contentment,
Feeling the warmth
Of my maker’s every thought, word and deed
For my good.
Should I forget this heaven so quickly?
Could I compare anything to its glory?
If only I would remember
That it is the memory of my soul;
That soul which calls to me
Apart from the world, alone
In the silence and the darkness and the peace.
Release me and I will return there;
We all shall,
Because it is only that journey
Which is even truer than our blood
When it comes to our good.
Yes, each womb holds the eternal pilgrimage,
The soul of the Eternal;
And it can never be held highly enough
In reverie or esteem;
It is why Mary, the mother of the Christ
Is honored so.
Go, bend your knees,
Close your eyes,
Find your peace
And remember your eternal soul,
Your first pilgrimage.
2014.01.22.2300 ©
If dakness and silence
Are the marks of the soul,
One can see how the world
And even sunlight
Could take its toll;
And how duty or prayer or
A routine of work
Must be considered with attention
And more than a modicum of care
That the soul of the giver and receiver
Might be there
In an exchange
That leaves each one less fractured
And more whole.
So the journey continues
Over years of ambition
With too little thought
That we find some contrition
For the misdirected, unreflected,
Confused, soul-less human condition
Where we look to another tomorrow as our goal.
But the end calls as in the beginning
In the very same silence, peace and dark
And the pilgrim will know
That it is the eternal which is calling
And that it is that calling which it must hark
Only if it remembers it from the womb
And the days throughout its human pilgrimage
That it did mark
The Truth and the Spirit in the Soul
2014.01.23.0700 ©