Love

Contemplating the Color of His Sacrifice
Sitting here,
The solitude around me
Is not just without sound. Its
Silence is painted
In blends of blood-red,
With nail holes and a
Spear puncture
Still softly oozing the
Aftermath of my sins, lo
Two millennia now His cruel
Calvary death, and
Even further back to when
The Serpent forked
Its tongue, and
Adam and Eve were
Cast outside the walls of
Eden’s heaven.

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.

Hearts
In far, timeless time,
When time was nonexistent
Except in the present
Moment with no past and
Future dividing rhymes,
The heart that beats
Within me first heard the
Heart’s beating in Thine.
How naturally and sweetly
That thought recurs
To me now, how the
Sound of Your heart has
Set my cadence, even unto
This eon’s very hour.

In Thanksgiving
And so this rose
Is offered thee at the behest of
The night’s mood.
It has arrived from a
Distant winter’s clime, where
Despite frost and tundra,
It has at the touch of
Truth bloomed.

So Cold
Click for meditationRegarding "So Cold"
These two poems are
Simply two instantaneous
Impressions of what an
Old, worn oak leaf lying on a
Winter ground manifested
To me. The oak leaf,
Lying atop snow crystals
And accompanied by a few
Sparse pine needles,
Could potentially convey an
Infinite number of
Possible meanings and
Associations. In theory,
I could write of this
One scene my remaining
Life and never lift the
Lid on all the aspects and
Interpretations.
Everything about us has
Countless takes and
Re-takes as if in a studio
During filming. This is because
Everything is part of
The unknowable mystery
Of Creation, and as the
Lord said in Isaiah,
“For My thoughts are not
Your thoughts, neither are
Your ways My ways.”
Creation’s faces are
Uncountable and ever-
Changing, but unfailingly
Have imprinted on
Them the divine features
Of Love and Beauty,
Together with those of life’s
Every day cares.
Just look into the eyes of
Whatever or whoever
Stares back at you, and you
Will see the light and
Shadows and hurt and
Happiness of the moment.
A January Dark
At not more than one
Hour before sunset, begin to
Gather in a circle to
Keep warm an oak leaf, a
Few pine needles, and
Some shivering snow and
Ice crystals, the last
Of the last to head to bed,
Already feeling the
Shadows of tree trunks
Overspreading them,
And knowing soon
Arrives another night
To close the door against
A January dark. Who’d
Have thought they’d be chosen
To spend the long night
Together – a desiccated
Leaf from a mighty
Oak, a few needles from
A towering pine,
And a collection of
Snow crystals by way of
Jacob’s Ladder, which
Had descended the rungs
Like sweet angels,
Couriers of God so the
Leaf and needles
Could softly recline.
Oak Leaf
So cold it could no
Longer hold by its fingertips
The last shivering branch
Of a nearby oak, down
It came – a twisted
Remnant of what it was,
The definitive end to
Autumn’s both anthem
And mayhem, and
With naught to do now
But to flit on frozen
Snow and ice, until again
This spring when the
Six creative days of Genesis
Would be reenacted
And re-begin.