breath hue

he's making it feel whole again - one thousand angel wings open in color, opened over in the memory of the shared breath which holds you.

heart stain

"...don't dwell on what has passed away...the dove is never free..." (leonard cohen).

leftover light in the place of ringmarks, a single cup of tea sings volumes over evening's empty howl when lost spirits are found in words that are lit by the wings of entering angels. a sign of grace in the place of hands holding hands. a sign of color's stain in the rain of the hours. a sign of the perfect offering given over to erasure in the space of hearts. [but it won't go away].

life-fires

the life in his eyes: an invitation to grace. with each strand of golden light across his face, the world is replenished. [the expectancy of faith on fire].

the faces of strangers

and in the parting hour, memory is finally given back, given away, given up. and you have nothing left to show for it but this empty wish. wish empty, wish empty - hold up your broken bowl and wish. [the surge of anonymity in the faces of strangers].

simple things

the bounty of simple things: whispers of 'yes' in the everyday. whispers of 'yes' in the everyday. the smile of sacred faiths locked deep inside each moment. [do not despair: you will be found].

returned to sender

rising this morning with the weight of sixty six days on my shoulder i was defeated. the angel-warrior had pushed me down with the kind of indifference you dream of when nightmares come. in the light of sacred grace i swear i don’t understand it. or i do understand it, and that is what has made me weak this day. 'i can't.' 'i can't.' 'i can't.' and all at once i am made sick with terror – the terror of care pushed down in the space of one, the terror of human grace grown thin with age, the terror of empty gifts left unopened, made small, returned to sender. returned to sender. returned to sender. [i still dream of the light. do you?]

moon hymn

as fate would have it, i saw him walk past my window last night. in my sleep, i dreamed of kindness until the sun set and left this world in all its rubble. in memory, i bled -- trails of sacred footprints in each tear, trails of friendship left wounded in ice. i have found the secret sun, a man of god in the folds of the rocks. and yet in the memory of uncut castles, i weep. in the justice which drowns compassion, i weep. in the pain that fills earth's opening with coal, i weep. [and in the moon's humming remainder, the man of god gently smiles and holds the opal in his hand, turning each occlusion to the light until the brilliance of human fire shines through the dust].

heaven's fire

and even as the waters run dry, heaven's root grows like colorsets in the play of smiling suns, even as the darkness falls. be well even in the place of shadow: hold onto heaven's fire and be well.

breaking faith

trust in the face of a wind that blows nails: the shattered pane of faith. will you hold your heart in the promise of care as they break you undone? (as they turn to tell one last lie, mourn; close your eyes and mourn).

the encounter

color your world with presence, with presence. and when the lines overblend shades of light-with-dark, walk in that space. walk in that space and revel in the faces in the chaos. and on that day, you will have found the creator.