A collection of songs, philosophies, and observations. Christian crumbs, if you will.
I understand now why You are immaterial, spirit,
Coming and going in hearts and in fire and in spiny desert brush without bounds or logic.
Flowing like water.
The physical changes. It ages and breaks. It’s the nature of the thing.
Memories are physical and mark the passing of time like ticks on a watch.
Sadly, memories change, and fade, and break.
Yeats was right, I think: an old man is a paltry thing.
Today? Wake, read, eat, work, eat, sleep. Tomorrow? The same. Ticks on a watch.
What jar or pot holds memories? No jar, but other memories.
In death we find life.
It’s there, in that darkness, that we find meaning.
Is it so strange that I have found meaning? Is it so strange that I long for my child’s smile? Is it so strange that I measure things with my wife’s ruler?
I died once, but only for a month. A toy for machines who pushed and pulled at my lungs. No children’s smile and no sweet whisper from my wife.
Meaning is sometimes found in lost things.
Love. Only love. Is there more? Father? What lives beyond love?
A Psalm about healing when I learned there wasn’t any.
Should I pray for healing, too, I wondered?
Like she did? Now whole?
I’d never thought of it. Was that was my sin?
You accosted me, as if from behind a curtain,
Why would I want to heal you?
Finally, you’re in a place where I want you.
Broken and humble.
I’m surprised,now, draped in a cloak of deep satisfaction,
A little lighter.
Mingling with leaves,
Hovering between dirt and sky.
My body aches but my soul smiles.
This is the plan?
This ache? This vice? This weight?
I didn’t ask nor complain.
I resolved to live more and to love more,
Wrapped,as it were, meaning.