light


footstool

Two years have passed and life has just begun. You see what lies hidden when everyone else is done. The earth is your footstool. You watch from across a sea of stars as the day waves from afar and the moon drinks its decadent cup of incandescent light. The earth is your footstool. One more day is all you need …Continue reading →

Sacred Garden

Pink peonies and tulips, red poppies and roses, grape hyacinths and hydrangeas, yellow pansies and posies, daffodils, lilies and buttercups color our sacred garden. The diversity of these flowers remind us of our own scope of influence–the community around us that God has called us to love and tend to. The work of uprooting weeds that seek to level our …Continue reading →

Quantum Particles of Irresistible Grace

O detached string of causal necessity give form back its feeling by the imprint of Light’s touch. Your quantum particles of irresistible grace fill vibrating vessels of visible vicissitudes. Are you for real? Or just a figment of my imagination? Or part of my collective unconscious, if there is such a thing? How can I prove Your existence? Solipsists say …Continue reading →

Poetry

One day, Poetry came to find me. It was like any other day As moss grows And ravens crow Poetry invaded my soul. In what felt Like a microcosm Of the big bang, Light and matter Flashed Into existence. Order from chaos. Water Lashed its wet tongue Against A rusty, Salty lock At the bottom of the ocean. All the …Continue reading →

“Ode” by William Wordsworth

This is one of my favorite stanzas (V) from Wordsworth’s romanticized poem, better known as “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.” This poetic paragraph takes for granted a biblical (or Platonic) pre-existence, which mourns the loss of a child’s vision of an ideal world fading away “into the light of common day,” in what feels like a …Continue reading →

Too Blind Canvas

Faith paints holding a redemptive brush, A heart gently kneaded by Light’s touch. Thick young pride dipped in Crimson’s deep Leaves a humble rhyme impending sweet sleep. Too blind canvas once lost and proud Now found under flesh-colored grace. Sounds quite queer À la modern man’s ear– Knots brushed and braided in lower soul’s beard. So quick to tear Seeing …Continue reading →

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