Profanity is thinking
That the world is mine
Or that I belong to the flesh;
It is turning my soul to a lesser good,
It is putting my God to the test;
It is forgetting that tomorrow or soon
I am dust
And remembering too much
What was past too much lust;
It is wanting to have
What I want as I must
And rejecting the holy within.
2012.12.01.0800 ©
Life is a dance,
A back and forward romance,
Between myself and the other outside me.
It is the world;
It is love;
It is a God high above;
Sometimes push,
Sometimes shove,
Sometimes embracing;
Giving meaning to the present
In an exercise of life
We cut the past and future cleanly
As if this moment were a knife
Forgetting all we hold inside ourselves
Now all is music,
Nothing strife
And the movement is the only spirit that really matters.
So today you are too close to me,
Tomorrow far too distant
And one look and you are next to me
In the turning of an instant
In my memory,
In my mind,
In the feelings I will find
Where my soul will try to wind
Itself a dervish.
2012.11.15.0800 ©
There is never enough distance
Between the sun’s setting and its rising
For my soul to see its own light
Through the acts of compromising
That it comes upon in the heat of the battle
Of our separate journeys shining
In their glory
In their wakings
In their day.
What can I say of the struggle
Or the conflict that life seems to be?
How can I move to the center
From the edges
Where I seek to be free?
When will I find what is comfort
In the experience of solitary?
Where just being becomes
Both to play and to pray.
Like the angels and the animals
And the children and the saints;
They move quickly past the suffering
And the list of their complaints
That the thinking man and his troubled history
For himself and his neighbor paints
Because he believes the place where he is
Is his to stay.
Forgetting the will of the Father
That keeps all that is good for our use;
Intending to employ what is ignorance
As the basis of his excuse;
Not caring that in his persistence
He is hell bent by his choice of abuse
Instead of the meek and the humble
And the spiritual way.
That the God-man, the Savior, the Christ, the Ideal
Did purport to put forward
Both with love and with zeal
That the poor he might lift up
And the sick he might heal
If only they could hear
What He had to say.
In the dark and in the quiet
In the isolation of each heart
Where the prize is the intention
And the end is just the start
Where the distance from each other
Never leaves anyone apart
Despite no light, too much suffering
And umbrae.
2012.10.03.0900 ©
It is nineteen hundred hours,
The dark and the silence have begun,
The day in all its glorious madness
Has bled its colors and run.
But its pictures remain in my memory’s tracks
And I long for their pleasant release
So I ply them with personal preferences
As I hope their impression will cease.
What?
To be replaced with more movement
Away from the center
That will continue to fracture and confuse?
No, rather a run to an eternal presence
That can rectify, sanctify and enthuse.
Yes, the world outside will always be there,
It is the constant
Steady in time and in space
But it is the journey far away
In the silence of living
That nothing and no one can erase.
My soul is the eternal presence
That longs for the eternal sense
And it eschews my choices to pacify it
In the pleasures of the present tense.
2012.10.02.0600 ©
I used to think nothing
Was something that must be elevated
As an evil or a good;
Now I have found
It is only the sound of the silence
Calling us all
To the depth of the wood;
Where we shall see clearly
The path that we shall come upon,
When there is no longer
any fear that it could
Do anything but give us
The life that is longing
To return to the Source
That it should.
2012.09.30.0100 ©
It is the silence
Of the night
That permits the echo
Of yesterday
To repeat;
So I must dream softly
On the surface
That the life
I have accustomed
Would not tomorrow’s
Whispered siren
Itself delete;
From a tapestry
Of patterns
In designs
Of distant Kingdoms
Where my lost and
Wandering spirit
Does retreat;
What is more the burden?
How I’ve sinned in my confessions?
Or the longing for temptation’s
Constant beat?
2012.09.28.0130 ©
I have taken for myself too many memories
So my solitude needs to struggle with my mind
Until I am forced into a corner by the darkness
And must leave the light of yesterday there behind
For the journey to a Kingdom that is beyond me
Wrapped in a vision or a faith that cannot be seen
And that is greater than any life I could imagine
Or any place my mind or my body may have been.
2012.08.21.1100 ©