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Drunk of the High Wine. . . .
It was a difficult lesson for me to integrate. It is for most people. One of quantum premises is that all time is simultaneous. Those who follow my blog know I speak of this often. It is difficult for me to write of experiences if I neglect to incorporate a fact that makes my work…
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Love Is The Answer. . .
Love, But Not Without Work. . . . It was with derision that laughter came because I said love was the answer. Naïve I was called and impractical. I was told I did not know how the real world works. But not without work I added. Love needed work. Wherever we were, the boots had…
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Upon Entry. . . a warm fire. . .
So much weather and all else happening that it is time for a light repast. It is time for a warm fire and a hot something with a bit of spice. It would be looked upon favorably. It is time for the head to rest and the body to recline. But only for a time. …
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Kindergarten. . .
To Play the Child. . . For whatever is not made peace with, will piece the person. It will break them into a million parts, never knowing it can be peaced, nor seeing how they contribute to it all, will leave the adult body still playing the child. When one operates from a child’s reference…
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The Bread Knows. . . .
Some days. . . are a wipe out. Only to do what one can. The Rabbi Teacher asked only one thing. ‘Feed the children.’ Sometimes the simplest command is shrouded by a complex system of thought. Think so? The Bread Knows the Feel of my Hands. . . I know the dust of the flower…
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The Snow May Blind Us. . .
This poem is one in the Psalms of Love. The book is available now in Kindle and is in process also, almost ready for print in paper back on Amazon.com. In the midst of this winter, I wanted to share my love for this season and will always love it especially. The most impressive part…
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The Gates of Heaven. . . .
When I Crashed The Gates. . . You ask. . . . How do you go to your knees and with tears bend and lift your head and to whom or to what? I say. . . . To a loving, wholly, holy Spirit that supports me with an embrace I know. . .…
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Ripped, Severed, Broken. . . .
Times Such As These. . . I lock up the room and pocket the last remnants of words laying about unattended. Fearful that pieces of my heart may be found scattered among them. And why not? Times such as these leave us with little salve to heal the open wounds which once were hearts. For…
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Lean on Me. . . .
Lean On Me. . . Lean, love, lean on me and rest your tired heart. Let me rescue you out of a dream and allow you to awaken in a world of choice. Bend to me, as the willow to the wand, as the lily grips the water to float. I have time enough and…
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The Past Is Still Happening. . .
Journal entry of November 3, 1983—(keep in mind I work with all time is simultaneous, a quantum premise, though I did not know it at the time when 35 years ago I was into black holes and white holes where this entry picks up) . . I scribed. . .It is no small thing when…