The Waters


Alive are the waters

Alive and well

Rushing through the rafters

Drowning out hell

Steam rises from the waters

Rushing like rapids

Roaring like dragons

Those that sound like thunderstorms

Thundering the waters engrave their way

Through the closed cave they pave

The waters run into the sky

And towards earth they fly

The waters declare freedom

The earth declares life


Scarlet Sun Rise Above

 Stockholm in the Morning by Katharine Shelby. 2018.
Stockholm in the Morning by Katharine Shelby. 2018.

Scarlet sun rise above

Shine the autumn with your love

Cast the water in apricot hues

Cover the sky with shades of bittersweet

You have one crimson eye

And one of silver

Great beast lurking to pounce

Dusty sea lip laps

As the world is still and quiet

Before humans buzz on the city streets

Before the world is filled with countless heart beats


Copper Leaf

The song of copper leaves

Dreams such as these

Bronzed by hope

Yellowed by light

 

The song of copper leaves

Falls into the eaves

A century passes by

A thousand years float by

 

The song of copper leaves

Is heard in the trees

As the wind plays through the branches

And the copper leaf dances

 

It sings about its happiness

It sings about its mourning

It dances out its sadness

It gestures for you to follow

 

Up and down

Spiralling

Ducking

Flying

Leaping

Across the sky and closing on the land

 

Follow the leaf as it dances, dances

Follow the leaf as it sings in you

The leaf is your coppery dream

The leaf is the dream that lights your way

Quote of the Day: A Friend Who Cares

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

— Henri J.M. Nouwen, Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life

The Stolen Road

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

The same place where life begins

It is a crossroads

A bridge

A crosswalk

 

A leap into the unknown

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

But our paths did not

Small trails of smaller rocks

Do you follow?

 

It will not change now

The road and what its made of

I will not change now

 

So many lives I have seen

And so many people I have been

 

Good poets borrow; great poets steal.

— T.S. Elliot

Not Too Much


No habitation meets the eye

A speck that would have been beneath my sight

Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all

Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought

And it seems like time when after doubt

And of course there must be something wrong

That I should have guessed

It is because like men we look too near

And further still at an unearthly height

And lonely as it is, that loneliness

Were not too much to pay for birth


Robert Frost Cento