I will not permit fear to impact the freedom

That is born within me, my own inalienable right;

I will cultivate the holy ground from which it springs;

I will seek it in the dark and in the light;

I will listen for its whisper in the silence,

So that others may its beauty also hear;

I will cherish it in summer and in winter;

I will hold it close, my soul, so ever dear.

I wish though I could say I really felt the freedom

That I long for oh so dearly in my soul

But the bonds of war and human interaction

Would consume my drive and keep me in the fold;

Where my love must rival freedom as the banner

That would crown my noble efforts with the gold.

2013.07.02.0430 ©

The temptation is over; thank God, my soul,

Neither I, nor my pleasure, does this life control;

Yet Order is what the heavens are made of

And Love keeps all things in their place

Or moving with the proper attitude,

Proximity, inclination, direction and grace.

Each moment is a wonderful creation,

An orchestration finely in tune

That never delivers anything too late

Or inappropriately without something to groom.

We are all in the mind and eye of the Beholder

Beautiful and thoughtfully made

Trying to live up to His expectation

Striving to make the grade;

To be a part of the flow of the universe,

To fit therein without rankle or distress,

To see holy in the confines of a world that is too mortal,

To find beauty in the midst of a mess.

2013.05.01.0600 ©

Finding myself nothing asks me

To sense only the night;

To see the light of the ages reflecting

From the heavens,

Giving this time and this space

A glimpse of eternal being;

To hear the sound of silence

Echoing forever,

Moment after moment,

Engulfing any feeble call heard now;

To feel a solitude that frees my soul

From the confines of a present

To which I could callously cling;

To know with absolute certainty

Under the tutellage of faith

That the light will return

And a new day brimming with life

Will come anon.

2013.04.28.0200 ©

Stones are pieces of the mountain of God

That one day will be soil for the seeds

To root and to grow into flowers and grains

That man’s soul and his body needs.

Eternity is waiting upon everything

Though some would lose sight in their place

Forgetting life belongs to the heavens above

And creation depends on God’s grace.

2013.04.21.0600 ©

It is good to get up before the birds start to sing;

To find out who I am,

Before my flights of fancy

Wing around a sky so blue

That forever seems mine for the taking;

To have light dawn upon me

When I am lost in reverie

Between the world within

I cannot fathom

And the common things I see;

I learn the story of man and creation

From the very beginning:

Then when the heavens begin to open

And Mother Nature begins to groan

I can know this day for what it is,

And find God and myself alone.

2013.04.04.0800 ©

There is no doubt about it!

Solitude is the challenge!

Choosing soul,

Wrapping it in silence,

Finding prayer;

An experience,

Enchanting,

Desirable in the end

But on the journey

Too elusive

And so rare.

2013.03.02.2000 ©

How does one resign oneself

To a softer experience,

Like that of the glow of the moon?

To cool reflections,

Over the harsh brightness

Of the images of the sun at noon?

To hold on to the holy, silent nights of winter

And not run to the mad heat of the night

Teeming with the pride of life

In the shadows of June?

The world turns too quickly

And tilts in the direction of life’s own reflection

For the aging soul, too soon;

Amid the hopes that spring eternal

That another day will give

Its adolescent boldness

The visions it requires

To cause the proper light again to bloom.

No more, I say!

There is nothing that can save me

From the darkness

I must face with the courage of an helpless infant

About to be spit so harshly

From the comforts of the womb.

Only the hope born in a cold cave

Of life’s self longing for salvation,

The cross too forced upon me

And quickly bloodied,

And the prospect of a resurrection

After I lay sleeping for a while

In an all too common tomb.

Move on, you tired pilgrim,

To what is born in the dark

And the stillness

And the silence

Of a solitary room;

For there you will find what it is

That you give to the world

Like it finds every day

In the heavens of obscurity

Broken only by the sweet, gentle image

Of a peaceful moon.

2013.02.13.0000 ©