There is no such thing as silence; I know,

I have been listening for years:

The very process of searching for it

Becomes the noise the seeker hears.

There is no such thing as solitude;

No one and nothing is ever alone;

We are living in a world of continuing evolution

Creation in every corner, known and unknown.

There is no such thing as stillness or stability;

Except when one is considered full grown;

But that requires that one become too little spirit

And too much cold and written in stone.

There is no such thing as darkness;

Even Lucifer has seen the light;

But it is rather a blindness that comes around at times

To cause the mortal to find faith as his sight.

There is no such thing as profanity;

God looked at everything and saw that it was good;

Even the cross, the tree of seeming death and destruction,

The forces of evil, it overcame and withstood.

2014.01.14.0400 ©

The secret to navigating the circles of life

Is finding the way safely home;

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Fighting the tendency to want to escape from the truth,

The weaknesses to which I am prone;

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Resting in the one that gives true comfort

And the staying power to be alone.

+

Of course nothing in this world is so trustworthy

And some circles give us the latitude to roam,

+

Unless or until I can see with clear vision

Or the decision is finally written in stone.

+

But most times I will keep running from one to the other

Because it is that which makes me feel I am alive;

+

Nothing is more tortuous than the human heart

And the journeys along the way it must contrive;

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Until it learns it is only in an heavenly soil

In which when planted it will eternally thrive.

+

2013.12.09.0600 ©

http://www.ourpilgrimage.com/changes_cycles_of_life.html

Slowly sliding into the darkness

Life slipping away from our sense

The birds and the trees and the natural state

Gradually becoming less dense;

Starkness our view to the horizon and to heaven

Uncovers our present tense;

We become open to creation and salvation,

The Light that unlocks the suspense.

Man is a simple pilgrim

Through the seasons of life, death and change;

Christ is the firstborn for the enlightened traveller

That the journey seem a little less strange.

2013.10.31.1800 ©

How can I see the light retreat

And hear the chirp of the crickets

Replace the Cicadian beat

Or feel the bite of the morning chill

Without mourning every joy I did greet

In every person I did meet

In my life and all the warm moments

I felt as mine in summertime?

A lesser man would be waiting

For the dead of winter

Already in the cold

If he had not felt the sadness of this loss before,

In a score of autumns,

Hundreds of days,

Thousands of times

Of reverie and regret

At some experience of forfeit.

Yet I do not count myself rich

For their remembrance,

Except that I can rise above the tears

And can love

From the silence and the solitude

Of the winter soon upon us.

2013.09.23.1500   ©

The God of our reflection is

The reflection of our God

In the lives of every one of us

And the fortunes of our lot

When we find that God is right before us

In the moments He hast wrought

In what is real and what is not

For those we know.

Can I find my own reflection in that journey?

Such that I can hear and see a silent sense

That would turn my past and future questioning visions

Into only what is God in the present tense.

2013.09.23.1700 ©