Grace

Grace . . . she wears rags but clothes you in silk and gold;
She is the milk of heaven but earthbound and quite bold;
Grace . . . she has no discretion and is never in recession;
She makes the wild one mild but strong; meek, not weak;
Grace . . . she’s not cheap but is free to befriend everyone;
She takes the laughter and scorn but is never torn apart;
Grace . . . she came with blood for every vein, not in vain;
She acts like a mere child but her prize is becoming wise;
Grace . . . she is bound by divine duty to restoring beauty;
She wears no masks but basks in bright sunlight of glory,
And this is her story . . .
Grace


Note: First published in February of this year, now republished due to some renewed interest as well as for new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!

A Paschal Celebration

Out of the darkness the Light brightly shines,
As death itself is swallowed up in living Life
Breathing in the wicked halls of dark Hades
With walls lined by chained, mournful spirits,
But there are no shackles to be worn by you,
O Beloved, for you have born the very worst
And you have overcome, coming victoriously
Into the very throne room of groaning Sheol
To snatch the keys of death and hell
To be cast in your living well of Life;
And already the bell tolls the coming of dawn
As your tomb yawns in an awakening sunrise
That will be the greater surprise of all history
For death itself cannot hold in your bold Life
Just as the stark dark cannot overcome Light;
Yes, you are like that fabled phoenix, Beloved,
Rising from ashes with healing in your wings!

To one and all: Happy Easter! Blessed Resurrection Day!

And the Darkness Has Not Overcome

Blot out the sun, erase the stars till there are none,
And pull the full moon from high in the night sky,
And let the starkest of darkness draw ever so nigh,
He would not overcome the light from your eyes,
So fiercely piercing and bright, brilliant to my sight,
And all the thick, pitch black would just roll back
Like an ancient scroll without taking his toll on me,
For though I be blind to all else, I would see you
Shining in all of your beauty . . .

In you there is no night
In you there is no blight
In you there is no fright
For you are bright
For you are light
You are my sight

You are the ever-rising dawn to whom I am drawn,
And how do I feel when you peel off the darkness?
Safe and secure in the allure of your beautiful eyes!

Sonnet of the I AM

As the wind topples trees, mountains fall into the seas
I am here for thee, for thou art mine and I am thine,
As surely as the bright light doth belong to radiant sun,
And when all is said and done we have but only begun
To sing my song of love written long ago in ages past,
For I AM with thee and will be from the first to the last
And ere beyond into eternity in an infinity of union
That bespeaks the nature of our bond of communion;
And dost thou possess words enough to praise my love
That comest not from this world but from high above?
As the rain beateth against thy house I am steadfast,
And thou art safe since with me thy lot hast been cast,
For I AM thy beginning and thine ending forevermore,
And ye shall mount up like unto the eagle and soar,
As in me do ye find thy joy and thy final completion
In the perfect love of who I AM . . . thy one redemption!

Following: I Need You

Nothing nefarious, nothing glorious, all mysterious,
You take me places I’ve never been
To see what I’ve never before seen,
And I don’t understand but you command me come,
And so I come along because I belong to you alone,
And you have shone in my life brighter than the sun,
And each night I feel like I’ve only just begun to live,
And so I rest me in your arms, safe from every harm,
Without comprehending just how you’re upending
All that I’ve ever known by everything you’ve shown
And all that you still have to reveal to seal my fate,
But not with poisonous bait,
No!
You satiate my voracious appetite for love from above
And you cover me with yourself, bringing me into you
In some mystical sense without any pretense,
And I sense that all is well and has been well
Since I fell into your inviting, emerald eyes
That spy my very soul as you fill the hole in my heart,
And my part is only to trust, not thrust ahead of you,
But merely to keep in step where you lead and heed
Your still, soft but strong voice. . .
And I’ve surely made that right choice with no regrets;
So lead on, my shepherd-companion,
Along your chosen way through every night and day;
I will follow where you lead . . . I need you, I need you!


Note: Originally published in October 2016, now republished for the enjoyment of new readers/followers … and others who happen to visit this blog! Blessings to one and all!

There is a Place Called Peace

There is a place called Peace, where living waters never cease to flow
And you’ve led me here, away from fear, where your winds ever blow
And there is no end to wonder with you so near and so much to show
So I can wander freely, at liberty, beneath emerald eyes I so well know
Here every season lives, from spring to winter with freshly fallen snow

Here the wasted land is far away
Here the dæmons are held at bay
Here a calm comes with each day
Here the balm is found in the way
Here are only gentle words to say

And you’ve brought me here so dear to this place I’d never have found
Though I’ve sought Peace all of my life, but to you I’m now ever bound
You are the Peace of this place in time and space, with beauty crowned
And you’ve opened yourself as your name is round the earth renowned
So I rest, sing and rejoice, and bring my very soul to this sacred ground

And I dream in your gaze ~ mystic maze ~ and drink the cream of life . . .


Note: Originally published in January of this year, now republished for the pleasure (and hopefully blessing) of new reader-followers. Indeed, blessings to one and all!

What Is Life Worth?

Is life but only the blade of grass that passes so quickly?
Or is there an invaluable worth from the day of birth?
Pages turn with age and the old sage reads every line,
And has what is written been smitten with lies or love,
Or more likely both upon torn pages since he was born;
And doubtless there have been tears through the years,
And smiles and laughter along the miles of pilgrimage,
But perhaps he sees in his time an image of villeinage;
Ah! But is life more than borrowed time in rented space?
Has his place been marked only by the chime of clock?
And when cock crows on that final morning,
Shall it be a warm welcome or dire warning?
Will an eternal sun rise as an heavenly prize,
Or will that bright light shine as an unwelcome surprise?
Is life but only the blade of grass that passes so quickly?
Or is there an invaluable worth from the day of birth?
To be lived fully and freely rather than in chains of pain?
What does the author write on pages for the sage to read?
Indeed, what is his life worth from the first day of birth?


Note: Originally published in November 2016, now republished for the consideration and enjoyment of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!