Creation
As Far as Eyes
Cold up’n cold up’n snow,
Cobalt hues as far as eyes the
Foam can follow, and
So this Island bares yet
Another of its winter
Moods, dark it seems,
Distant yet tolerant,
Somber, like a great mastiff
Allowing itself to be
Petted by a child, wary,
Watching as a few
Souls approach the
Edges of its beach, while
Atop a boardwalkâs perch
A lookout also observes,
Like performing sentry duty at
The Ol’ Grand Manse,
Studying the stick-figure
Shapes of these poor
Creatures – in the Presence
Of the Almighty they
Have come to beseech.
Fog
A December fog
Appears, like incense to anoint
Warmth up’n the cold
Foreboding of the year, and
Speaks into my mind
Genesis’s proclamation,
“God saw all He had made, and
It was very good,” and
From beneath the pond’s
Dark surface a collage
Of fallen leaves of oak and maple
Look up and agree, still
Fresh from autumn’s
Dispensation, having slipped
Free their bonds from the
Shoreline’s easel and into the
Bog of eternity.
Ode to Lord
You observe me in Your
Pervasive “I AM WHO I AM” presence,
Never letting me go, while I, in my
Earthly obliviousness and
Nonchalance, am
Protected by You
Beneath the wing of Your
Sweet shadow. Why,
O Lord, why do You so
Faithfully suffer my
Abandonment of You?
I have far, far surpassed the
‘Three times’ before the cock in
The courtyard crowed…
Here
Click for meditationRegarding "Here"
I have been to Plum Island
So often, starting from when I was
Just a little boy ten years old, right up to
The present when I was there three
Times during a magical stretch in October.
Instead of thinking pumpkins, though,
I was thinking about “grief,” but
Also about “rebirth.” Plum Island is my
Sanctuary when I need sanctuary.
It is my piece of Heaven,
When I need to be reaffirmed
In my faith and to feel the
Absolute awe and wonder of
The eternal Creator, the God of
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,
The “I AM WHO I AM.” So
Over the years, each individual
Wave and sea state, when
I would come and look out over
The boardwalk, has gifted
Me a peak, a hint, into the
Infinite possibilities of the forms
And faces of God, and when
Each time the bare ripple of the
Foam of a wave has touched
My feet, it has always done so in a
Way in which understanding and
Acceptance were conveyed.
Here at Heaven’s gate
Laps nigh my feet in its final
Wake the tide, bare
Seconds before returning
Back out to where it
Will regather into all its foam
And former strength,
And then once more
Come rolling back, to
Kiss where in another life
I had in memory’s bliss this
Sand reclined.
Eternity’s Sea
Out it froths, as from
An inexhaustible fount of Word,
From a Source far beyond
All creature knowledge, but
Yet a humble foam eager
To greet my footprints
Face to face on the beach,
My steps, those of a pilgrim come
From afar like once did three
Wise visitors from the east,
When the tremendous roar of a
Rushing sea across sand
And stars was heard, and was
Forever altered the countenance
Of God… when it took
On the image of an infant
In a poor stable, and in the
Newborn’s hand was clenched
A sword of straw.