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…

Matthew 12: 46-50

And so Jesus said to the
Crowd pressing tightly around Him,
“Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?”
Waving His hand about Him to
His disciples, He then continued,
“Look, these are my mother and brothers!
Anyone who does the will of My
Father in Heaven is My brother and
Sister and mother!” And so when
His own mother and brothers, who were
In the crowd and heard this, they truly
Realized He had now left the quiet,
Hidden life of Nazareth, and that never
Again would things be the same…He was
Now about His “Father’s business,”
As He had once said when found in the
Temple at age twelve with the
Elders and the Teachers of the Law.
Instead of striding across Judea
And Galilee and the surrounding
Countryside, He would now stride
Across the Universe, the Word,
The Word Incarnate, the Word Made Flesh.
The Old Covenant, written on
Stone tablets, would now be freed and
Written onto hearts, and every
Creature amongst uncountable stars
Would lift their heads, with Love as the
New astrophysics and mathematics,
Both on an earthly plane near, and
Spinning on a galaxy axis far.

The Tree of Life

It shone in gold, but
Not just typical gold, but rather
Otherworldly, ornamental,
Finest gold, relocated
From the Garden of
Eden, an earthly
Tree of Life set free
From the consequences
Of the bondage
Of Original Sin, and
Now able to renounce
Night and to proclaim
Daybreak – and to
Promise each weary soul
That hope lives and
Its green shoot glistens.

Ode to the Bearer of the Holy Spirit

The candle you
Hold is faithful, its light immune
To being dimmed.
Awash I am
This desert night,
But from afar appears
Your face,
Carrying in your
Caress the eternal
Antidote to
My flesh’s whims.

“Again I tell you: it is much harder
For a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God
Than for a camel to go through
The eye of a needle. . . ”
Matthew 19:24

At Heaven’s Gate

At last I am at the outskirts of
Heaven’s gate, and all remaining for me
Is to cross o’er this narrow,
Tremulous bridge, this bridge of
Terrifying choice – whether, in faith,
To God’s will to totally submit,
Or to throw chaff wildly
Into the wind, and, like a camel, to
Try to thread the eye of a
Needle, in the reckless hope of
Receiving forgiveness from the fingers
Of Mercy’s Seamstress. . .