Saturday, October 29, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
saturday | october 15 | 2011
humanism.
we're all trying to get Somewhere, but
so often we lose sight of Where we're headed,
and even more often we lose sight of Why.
we turn to one another in faithful obedience
to the commandment of love, but
in so doing, we turn our backs to others.
interest groups and social clubs are
become displays of humanistic altruism that
is necessarily exclusive, albeit in attempt to come together.
in this, we move apart from
He who is philadelphia made flesh and
calls all men to Himself.
we must draw near to Him, and so
gathered around Him, we stand a chance
of seeing one another clearly.
at the Center of this circle, we find
Love Himself, and in so doing we also
find our truest selves.
friday | october 14 | 2011
escaping wrath.
in my earlier days, i responded to
the Voice who speaks all things into being
as though He were merely
the Great Fire Escape.
i climbed through windows, hoping simply
to be spared the burning of my flesh.
i believed the Flame would pass me by, but
the Consuming Fire shows no partiality;
it tests each man's work.
my hope for escape is now the hope
to be engulfed by the Flames of Love.
i pray that my work stands and that
the Great Furnace burns through that
which must be lost, for a great deal
of the Refining Fire is needed, but
if i try to escape Its Heat,
then i shall surely be burned to death.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
thursday | october 13 | 2011
this dim glass.
then i turned to see the voice that was speaking to me,
and on turning i saw seven golden lampstands,
and in the midst of the lampstands
one like a son of man...
- revelation 1:12,13
for now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.
now i know in part; then i shall understand fully,
even as i have been fully understood.
- i corinthians 13:12
beyond this glass comes the call:
"be who you are. know that I AM."
i struggle against the burden of
my many transgressions, knowing
at last that my sins outnumber the stars.
pressed against this opaque wall, i yearn
to be set free, knowing that beyond this
is the Morning Star and He is arrayed in light.
in our midst, i say, and saying, rarely hear.
i see without perception, and walk
away from the mirror, having
forgotten my face's shape.
the weight of years presses
against my hollow body, and
i find myself alone in the
fire of nebuchadnezzar.
i strain to find His Voice, but
my ears are plugged by a
mucky multitude of malefactions.
i know that He stands with steadfast
mercy, beckoning my meager soul to
drink the Living Water and be
saved from the drowning undertow of
pestilent and perverse passions.
the greater the fall, the greater the restoration.
and yet, this dim glass reminds me, with
clarity, of my deep disfiguration.
yet something within me will not staunch
the longing to meet Him face to face.
"be who you are," He says,
"you are more than what you have become.
I AM that I AM; rest in Me, and
receive the forgiveness of sins."
wednesday | october 12 | 2011
narrow stairs.
save yourself, and thousands around you will be saved.
- st seraphim of sarov
the stairs are narrow, and it is clear
that i must make this ascent alone.
each step leads to the next, but
i must stand in solitude with sure footing
if i am ever to reach the top.
too long i have attempted to peak the perch
with the weight of someone beside me –
the fathers would likely call this "vainglory."
but this upward path is mine alone
and to pass over its passage is to perish in
the most detestable of deaths. this
Way of Life is response to that call which
echoes from the pinnacle, and i,
with redeemed resolve, must reach to
take hold of Him who has
taken hold of me.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
tuesday | october 11 | 2011
heartichoke.
why is it that we call the center
of this - fruit thing (?) - its heart?
is it really worth the dignity?
we peel the fibrous exterior until
we attain the prize, the tender core, and
our labor is well compensated.
the envy of the plant kingdom, which
collectively sings the song of the tin man!
the pinnacle of flowerhood!
so what, then, can be said of
the tender hearts of men,
whose rough shells keep all at bay?
the outside must be softened, removed
if the core is to be found, but
this burden of Work is light,
and its freedom is the heart's desire.
Monday, October 10, 2011
monday | october 10 | 2011
eyes on the prize.
how often a sidewalk stop becomes
a turning point in the journey.
i have not infrequently found,
when walking with somewhere in mind,
another destination bids me pay attention
i think i know where i am
headed, but too much, it seems,
i'm wrong. perhaps each place beckons
rest, and in my weakness of vision,
i succumb to the allure of new life.
yet in all these asides and
wanderings from the goal, i can't
help but ask my vagrant heart,
"what is it you are looking for?
and when will you know you've found it?"
onward i must proceed, always
keeping one eye open to the turns
in that which lies ahead, but i need must
know the difference between making stops
and simply losing the Way.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
sunday | october 9 | 2011
the shattered image.
how did this mirror become broken?
what manner of deed rendered it
incapable of bearing the Image?
well, that is to say, at least,
Its reflection is imperfect.
scarred? definitely.
but beyond repair?
what would it take to reshape this
glass, brilliantly fashioned from
the dust of the earth, and thus
make sharp the likeness
of that which it reflects?
perhaps this mirror is done for?
but it can be recrafted; for
what use to any is a vanity
the sight of which echoes fragmentation/
and thus it must be so
that we all must be made whole.
saturday | october 8 | 2011
food pantry.
how many ounces of preservatives
do you think it takes to keep
just one can of mixed fruit
from going bad? two? three?
i'm sure, whatever it is,
the dosage is sufficient.
yet i, rebellious can of fruit
that i am, look for incorruption
in that which is perishable, seeking
salvation at those critical conditions.
but still i hope to turn and find
That which keeps my soul from going bad.
Friday, October 7, 2011
friday | october 7 | 2011
easy offence.
i stand before this fence,
wondering what it will take
to climb to its other side and
discover greener pastures.
but the next thought is one
of anticipatory regret;
what color will the grass be
when i actually arrive?
will i find a lush garden,
or an dead desert dune?
will i breath in ocean breeze,
or choke on toxic fume?
when this happens, will the fence
then be impossible to pass,
and will i be stuck in a world
of fruitless un-utopia?
and how long would it take
for me to realize a mistake?
would it happen now, or happen then,
or would it happen at all?
perhaps it's best i just stay here
and brave what things may come,
but even here, in this way,
my question stays the same:
is it worth the risk?
Thursday, October 6, 2011
thursday | october 6 | 2011
hearts and crafts
if i were a point on these
intersecting lines,
would i have any idea
about the interwoven reality
apart from my singular perspective?
would i see the patchwork
as no more than a shadow,
or would some part of me
believe in a greater pattern
where all things form one shape?
how, then, does my mode of sight
presently differ from such
misperception of infinitude?
what world do i affirm with
such limitation of vision?
more than this, what kind of
edifice would humanity make
in this light? would it stand
on self-sustained hope, or would it
crumble under the burden of sufficiency?
it must be, then, that some Crafter
sees that which is obscure;
opaque points of view cannot deny
such intricacy or affirm closed causality.
indeed, this is the eternal Fact.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
wednesday | october 5 | 2011
on the road.
continually i find the path to be clear
only where i know must next step.
blurred tangents and vague off-roads,
somehow magnetic, hold no vision of
what may come, tempt to sway me.
i waver to and fro, but this Rock keeps
me straight. i may lose sight (more than
may) of the goal of this pesky trail, with
all these turns and tides through time.
it's no strange wonder that travelers lose
direction when they smell the flowers. but so
i keep my feet strong and follow bends
as they come. full of anticipation and wonder,
i resolve to trust the Way.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
tuesday | october 4 | 2011
another day.
the end of each day
bears with it the promise
of tomorrow. the unending flow
of sun ups-and-downs reiterates
the earth's diurnal vow, and
for a moment,
i can believe that
i won't be this way forever.
the cover of dusk-lit clouds contains
me within the shell of my body,
and once again, i'm human.
i hope, and am sometimes confident,
that my spirit will merge with
terrestrial revolution and i, too,
will be enlightened by the Risen Sun.
i sing my morning song with
beaked brethren, blessing the world
and all that is in it,
and my soul wakes from the mire of sleep,
enlivened by the One who make all things new.
Monday, October 3, 2011
monday | october 3 | 2011
the art show.
why are these pictures missing?
have they been stolen? or
is it just the next cool thing
to frame a white piece of paper?
or perhaps paintings below
have been obscured by this blank
canvas in some great scheme -
a war between two artists.
one can almost imagine
competition for dominion
over the entire artsy scene.
there isn't enough room
in the gallery for
the both of them.
yet it seems that this obscurity
is one artist's only work. he
claims its credit, but for some
critics, its emptiness is a hard sell.
there are, of course, as at any
show, those who see its worth.
the trained eye, however, can
see the silence for what it is.
they know that somewhere
deep below, flows the passion
of an Artist whose very Art
is Life. His images are hidden,
though not quite lost. His
work is restoration. the recall
of that which has been covered
with the fraud of modern art.
tireless renovation reveals His handiwork.
but what of the canvas of my heart
when he uncovers its dimly wrapped frame?
what image will thus appear,
and whose likeness shall it bear?
Sunday, October 2, 2011
sunday | october 2 | 2011
arbortrary judgment.
often i have wondered how others
perceive my outer shell, and how
it portrays that which appears real.
broken bark and biting bugs
may be what they first meet.
the burrow of termites have
left their tunneled mark. a clear
infestation that rots the face of my life.
or maybe they see the burn,
the scar of that conflagration (i escaped
a fate darker than any would desire).
and then there's the cracks where
lightning struck and splintered
my weather-wearied wood.
they see the busted branches where
boys would bring their budding loves
and declare their hearts' intent.
the scattered fragments of my beaten body
bear the marks that meet men's minds,
which manage to make meaning of nothing
more than chips and scratches and holes
and fragile twigs and old memories.
and yet, they fail to see within this skin,
unknowing that deep inside is a soul
one-hundred-and fifty rings deep. i have seen the
rising and setting of more moons than any man.
i have heard the hushed vows of sweethearts
in the breeze. my inner world never stops.
through noetic xylem and phloem, i find
the deepest Water, and no one knows
i drink my heart's content.
i stand firm despite the wind, albeit
escaping somewhat scathed. and more
than any other i know, i turn to the Sun
and find His Light, my truest source of Life.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
saturday | october 1 | 2011
davy jones' successor.
where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
when my father gave me this key,
he said that it would open to me,
an endless reserve of treasure.
"where," asked i, with plunderous thoughts,
"might this treasure be found?" and begged
him, please, for an "x" to mark the spot.
"try as you might," responded he,
"you'll never find the chest. for
Only One knows where this treasure lies."
but his first words of vast wealth
had already staked their claim,
and i was bent on conquest.
i scoured the seas
and pillaged the people
of many a mountain town.
i sought high and low
through morning and night
in search of this great gold.
i was met with utter despair
as lock after lock grinned with malicious intent,
and tightly remained secured.
for twenty years i searched
and never once came close.
but now the Mystery of this bitter key
plagued me most of all.
and then one day, i came to
an isle, that, save for One Man,
seemed all but deserted.
"greeting, pilgrim," said He to i,
as he sat on a hill, against a great Tree,
though the Tree seemed held up by Him.
"a great treasure, I see, is that which you seek."
He discerned as He gazed in my eye.
wearied with work, i only could nod.
"you have no map," He prophesied,
"and your journey as led you here."
i dimly agreed, and He bid me to sit.
"i know where to find that which has been
the longing of your life's looking."
and with these words i sat up aright and begged Him tell me more.
no longer in want for this great wealth
but only with desire to be set free,
i told Him all i'd done.
He said He could lead me and offered me rest
as He saw i was beleaguered. but the price
for which He offered this freedom was the contents of what we find.
i gladly agreed, "all i have is Thine,"
and surrendered the contents of the chest.
he looked in my soul and said that all that remained was the key.
after great struggle i managed to find
the strength to loose the key from my neck.
i gave it to Him, and with that He grinned and called me "friend."
He bade me lie down and open my shirt,
and for some strange purpose,
i did His command.
and with one motion, He came over to me,
and stuck the key deep in my chest.
He unlocked my ribs and removed my heart,
and said, "I'll keep this treasure with Mine."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)