Heavenly perceptions.

Standard

Lord, be close upon this day.
Make me kind in every way.
Help me see things as you do
To keep my smile the whole way through.
Help me hear the things you hear
A bird’s song bright or stifled tear.
Help me smell the things you smell
A fragrant prayer, a blast from hell.
Help me taste the things you taste
Food in bounty, laid to waste.
Help me feel the things you feel
That all earth’s sorrows you could heal.
Help me know the things you know
That in rejoicing life may flow.

Advertisements

You only see part of the picture.

Standard

(Lessons gleaned doing a puzzle extending 6 inches beyond the borders pictured on the box.)

You only see part of the picture

There’s more to your life than you see.

You see what happens around you

But outside that framework there be

Unknown factors and measures

Images, colour and light.

Though to put the pieces together

It can be more of a fight.

Part of the picture you work on

Putting the pieces in place

The other unseen surrounding

You leave to My infinite grace.

Guessing at last what’s portrayed there

Trying to make sense of it all

Feeling your way to an image

You don’t have a sight to recall.

But think of the wonder in this child,

It’s much more exciting you see.

The whole of the picture completed

You’ll see it at last as I see.

A child.

Standard

Unto us a child is born,

Not just one, but many.

Following in steps divine.

In innocence and eyes ashine.

Within this earthly realm align

These blessed lambs.

 

Each one a touch of Heavens grace

The path from which we’ve gone astray

Endeavour to retrace.

Till sullied so by acrid fumes

Pollution of our strife

They yield at last their childhood faith

And enter into “life”.

 

Only one did keep the faith,

Emerged at last unscathed

From fear and darkness, hate and lust

And to us all proclaimed.

“To enter in become a child

Be born upon this day

And follow me both one and all

I came to show the way.”

 

thread in the darkness.

Standard

A thread in the darkness, silken, reflective,

Glowing in the stillness and silence of the night that had engulfed his world.

He reached out. It did not quail.

Spider silk strong, it responded to his touch as he wrapped his hand around it.

Tensile strength lifted him, souring from the darkness to a world of light and song.

He looked into eyes pure and true. Love reflected,

The tiny thread that rescued him sprang from those eyes.

He took her hand, delicate, frail, yet strong as the web she had wove round his heart.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispered.

Redemption.

Standard

Colour decked, the marbled skies entwine in splendid hue
And echoed in the earth below a rendered scarlet dew.
All earth besmirched with war and pain while heavens gaze on down
“T’was given to the hand of man,” God answers with a frown.
“And rendered up upon that day, he hands it back to Me,
E’en sky above, polluted, foul, which once was wild and free.”
The sins of man recorded here and buried in the clay
The skull, the bone, that once were fair, in dead abandon lay.
The blood soaked down within the soil, the dirt, the filth, the grime,
A thousand belching factory’s smoke eclipse the sun’s dim shine.

And man, what has become of him, the first creations prize,
He’s turned away to hate and sin, from truth he’s turned to lies.
“But see,” God says, on looking down, “some jewels within this flock
Of anguished souls intent on gain, still cling unto the rock.
They shine and glimmer in the dark and round them shines a light
That though the darkness press it hard continues in the night.
In them a seed, though thinly sowed, a hope that lies within,
That to the promise, stained in blood, they set their hopes to win.
To these brave few shall dawn a day when dark is turned to light
For all the evil then shall flee the day I join the fight.”

And Yet…

Standard

Alone we watch last leaves of autumn fall upon this world
Fearing stark winter follows icy breath in hand.
Alone we watch the fleeting sun rise and set its measure of time
Believing one day the frost shall melt at the coming.
Alone we ponder and learn of wonders withheld,
And yet, at small space, from our present eyes
Alone we partake as one that peeps through a slit at a waiting world of wonder
One that is warmed with thoughts and emotions as yet unformulated.
For light streams through in colored glory from worlds beyond if we still ourselves to listen
Soft words of comfort echo through chasms formed by love long ago
Yet still they calm our senses , refresh our vision, as a fresh wind from the mountain.
Stop, look up, and we will see fresh vision here with God with we…

(While troubled and pained by recent attacks in London and in Syria I came across this old poem and found comfort.)