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 ©
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