It is the uncertainty

Of life and

Of love

That tears away

The fabric of

Our being, our order;

In truth, the uncertainty

Cannot be ignored or denied;

However, the definition

Of life and

Of love

Can be manipulated

To minimize uncertain being;

And the disorder?

It can be given to

The author of the uncertainty.

2014.09.04.0649 ©

I cannot fix the brokenness

That the world has given to me,

But I can stop running to it,

Embracing it and clinging to it;

Thinking it is mine,

Making it mine or

Giving it to anyone else;

And rather I can give fiat

To eternal grace and peace and truth.

2014.07.31.0200 ©

               There is very little

               I find in my heart

               Which I desire to see or

               To hear every day,

               So I search within

               The emptiness I find;

               Then with the life I am given

               I can begin to play again,

               To pray again

               And to say

               I love you.

               2014.07.02.0800 ©

One can never be:

Poor enough of spirit;

Rich enough of courage;

Pure enough about truth; or

Sure enough about God.

2014.05.29.2200 ©

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 ©