I’m most with spirit
When creating works of art,
In faith formation
I’m off in spirit
When mind and hands are melded,
Creating a new
Spirit is in me,
Always, and I am in it,
I’m never alone
Tag: poem
But I Do Know (Love)
Is love like a spell that we must invoke,
Does it lay in waiting,
Until it’s summoned?
Does it exist around us like air,
That we breathe in and out?
Does it only reside inside us,
As a system, or pump through us like blood?
Is love alive, does it beathe, but seem stationary like a tree?
Does it have memory, history like water in the ocean?
Does love evolve, like living creatures,
Or is it static, never changing, always being?
I know love,
but I also don’t know,
Love seems to be all these by things,
In and out of us,
Love a spirit, love a diety, love a force rooted in the creation of existence,
There are so many things I don’t know about this,
But I do know
I love you,
And that love
is.
Big Questions
To whom shall I ask the big questions?
The meaning of life questions?
The “why do we die?” questions?
Who might hold the answers;
The trees?
The sky?
The ocean breeze?
What will shepard me to the next plane?
When will my time come?
For I only know that it must come,
Reliable like the summer rain.
Tarot Deck
Turned a card and found a way,
An image intricately illuminated,
Illuminating in its prescription,
Turned a card and found this way
Turned a card and found a new way,
assessments of past, present, future,
Staring deeply into the picture
Interpretations abound,
“Know thyself” comes to mind,
As I examine the symbols, cups, wands, swords,
Find your way in living,
Cards are meditative mediums,
Bridging with the spiritual that surrounds,
A deck shuffles and organizes the unexamined life,
To investigate within,
To investigate without,
To perceive the seemingly invisible,
The untenable,
That which lights our way without our knowing,
Here a glimpse behind the curtain,
Thins the veil,
A gift of the moment through a prism viewed.
(Here In) Solitude
Solitude,
I sit alone blankets covering legs
As I prepare for night’s rest,
And still my tongue is restless,
Unworn from speech,
My mouth is an empty cavern capable,
But speechless,
Instead it is my brain,
The vessel that has been tasked with laborious burdens,
My mind that has tumbled and wrestled with the day,
And yet,
At the day’s end,
It is my mind that longs for the comfort of a used mouth,
For the melodic hum of vocal cords,
But yet there is very little of this song here,
The mind is alone,
With no accompanying music,
The mouth stays in silence,
But for the occasional chewing on idle tongue,
All are in individual silos of solitude,
As am I,
In my bottom bunk,
In an almost empty room for 10,
Thus begins, and begets,
Life of the minister in making,
Here in
Solitude.
Tender Root
The ashen ground lay still hot,
With memory of fires burning,
Of life force curling in it’s flames,
And yet,
A silent revolution takes place,
Deep under burning soil,
Is a last hoorah for life in flux,
Root erupts
Supple and moist,
From a fragile,
but protective encasement,
Root unravels,
Tendril uncoils in and through rich packed earth,
From the depths it tunnels up,
up,
Closer to the light,
To the day,
To the fire it longs to challenge,
New life finds a way,
As if to say,
No,
No,
Not today
She of Letters 