We are moments

Thank you to everyone for your kind thoughts and words last night. Of course it was a spontaneous heartfelt reaction (mixed with “not too” much rum). My son was hit by a car in the exact location, in front of our house. People drive too fast on our street. A neighborhood should feel comforting, not torn by mindless people. I was not going to post this week, too hurt to focus, but the sooner I hop back on the horse, the sooner I move forward. Again, thank you for allowing me “my space” to vent. And I apologize to anyone put off by my need to be so emotional. I think they call it emotive. It is me. I hope you understand. The beat goes on…

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

The Church has an excellent appetite.
She has swallowed whole countries and the question
Has never risen of indigestion.
Only the Church . . . can take
Ill-gotten goods without stomach-ache!  Faust

The sins of the body, corrupted by power, leaves a bad taste in the foreigner’s mouth. Sacred moments, meant to pass along, white carnations of innocence.

Some day
flesh and blood fellowship
will return. Some day.

The stage will be set
rise to greet, a tendril
tender smiles of peace
no withered leaves
or snapped branches.

Guests will curtsy
dine upon the invitation
breathe the flowering fragrance
white carnations
a breath of fresh air.

I imagine, if possible
heaven here on earth;
The harvest festival takes root.

Messes surround me presently. Not all of my own making. I expected perfection from myself, a competitive nature from birth, until I realized utopia is set aside for such a time we are ready to appreciate beauty.

I do find beauty where none exists, buried in soil. The dirtiest temple can always be cleaned. We learn by dedication to keep pure the rusting kettles in case we thirst for tea. We learn by example, those who fight battles in dark corners, lest they perish unseen.

Some of us would rather not peer into dark hearts, confess thoughts that pass through. We who find it easier to find fault, damm others, rather than patiently change, no matter the distance.

Life remains hopeless.
Divided lives, damnation thrives.
It hurts when we are stolen.
Precious hearts dangling by frayed threads.

The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy.
My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life. (Jesus) John 10:10

Music Video Poetry quotes

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