By the good Book we learn, but by way of experience
we know, and knowing is so much better than believing,
for the sacred root of trust grows from confidence in the Lord,
and the deeper we trust, the more our faith strengthens.
Blind faith means: giving up the right to choose.
We were born to question, but only solutions build trust.
Once upon a Time, God spoke to men and women directly.
These human beings wrote down what God said to them.
After a few centuries, a select group of men gathered
a great many of these writings together, and decided
they had enough to make a Book of Books. After judging
some of the stories unfit, they put the remaining
books in an order befitting The Story, and called
the chosen writings scripture. Then they said,
“No words shall be added or taken away from The Bible.”
I surmise, from that day forward,
God ceased to speak to Man.
Or nowadays, if He does get vocal,
and someone jots down His words,
no one else will believe them,
and scripture it shall never be.
Greedy to see the face of God!
Ready to test the Divine assumptions!
Eager to tempt The Powers That Be
ineffable, insensible, and subtle as a tree,
I dared to go alone – into the night – unbound.
To the river of security, my comfort – safe and sound.
Listen carefully, dear Mary.
The Heavenly Hosts adore thee.
Oh, hear the angels sing!
You have earned the right to bear The King!
With you this child belongs.
In your soft and loving arms,
the Son will grow divine.
Next to a heart so pure,
The Prince Of Peace will shine!
“Jesus shall be His name!” by God!
Only you can be His mother.
To save the world from sin and shame,
you’ll bring Life to the One who Loves ev’ry other.
Here I am before the dawn
~ catching a glimpse of your dark star as it hovers ~
Entombed in the thickest of forests He lay, donning a dark shroud of cool deadened leaves. Limbs that once held the glorious weight of the world were now, at the last, but scattered timbers on sacred grounds. Branches that once shouldered the burden of the blame had broken from the main, and still the vines held fast! Everything for which He stood – a scheme inside a dream; His crowning achievement – a sacrificial theme; all was laid to rest beside the petrifying flesh of His ancestors.
Let us go, dear soul, for a stroll!
You help me sing my song.
Two loves the sound that makes a whole
when daybreak hums along.
We’re off to greet the morning sun,
salute a spectral sky.
Like dew, we’ll glisten just for fun
before our last goodbye.