Song of Solomon 2:1

“I Am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the Valleys”

“I have not come to call the
righteous, but sinners to repentance,” ^*
and thus defines the essential
appeal of Jesus, His compassion and
His mercy, and why so many in
the crowds would press around Him,
clutching at His garments,
as if His words were falling
upon good soil in the heretofore
barren desert of their ears,
and multiplying in each their hearts
a Rose of Sharon – beautiful
in hope, and in purity oblivious to
mortal anxieties and fears.

YHWH

Dear Lord God, eternal Father,
Creator of Heaven and earth, thank You for
the refuge of Your sheltering wings,
wings I, as your creature, can never describe, yet via a
smoky metaphor’s mirror they serve to soothe
my trembling. . .And thus towards them I crawl, O Lord,
to lie curled and fetal and protected beneath!
Whether in reality or dream, they are
what stands as my shield between me and the evil
of the serpent’s sting. Invisible as they be,
I sense their feathers outnumber the stars with the
scope and comfort of the shade and shadow of
their canopy. Such a haven You provide,
O Almighty “I AM,” faithful in Your protection and
promises, of which Your Heavenly hosts attest and sing!
Your wings I imagine radiate outward along
compass headings of Your Creation’s six days of work,
their azimuths streaking without beginning nor
ending, just the Truth of Your Writ and Word.
And I feel, Lord, that each radial line
is like a distinct Jacob’s Ladder, with
their center-point the beloved River Jordan, that
baptismal cup pouring forth the four letters
of Your Name’s grace and glory.

I AM Your Name

(Jeremiah 1:4-10)

It was I Who at the birth of
Creation first breathed upon you
The sounds of your name.
It was I Who first heard the
Letters reverberate
Amongst the eons and ages.
It was I Who inspired
The meaning lain unplumbed
Within these pages.
And it was I Who first kissed
You, long before in the
Womb you kicked as a babe.

Light and Silence

Lord, there is
No darkness too dark for
Your Light. There is
No noise too loud for
Your Silence.
There is only me,
Lord, and it is I who
Must ultimately choose
And decide…

The Lives of Leaves

The lives of leaves,
If ever they could be adequately
Described, lie enciphered
And deciphered
Before me in each
Their final rest, displayed
And splayed, but from
Creation’s inception
Having been touched by the
Hand of the Master,
And so in the Lord’s
Limitless grace, their colors
Now allowed to nestle –
Quilted and counted
Like loaves and fishes at
Tabgha, and in factors of seven
By the shores of the
Sea of Galilee multiplied.