Well, that day’s long been - now I’m more inclined
To smile. Like a rug turned upside down
I’d not seen life’s better side.
Towers
Watching children build towers with blocks
I see that what is intended to be fun is making everyone cross.
Everyone is happy while everything’s going to plan
But how quickly it all sours when a tower is knocked down.
Accusations are hurled; anger razes their work to the ground.
This spectacle becomes a meaningful prompt.
I pool all the knowledge I’ve acquired on blocks.
I recall all the great buildings - written of and known
And how they’ve remained though eras have flown.
Their beauty, their strength lay in something called stone.
To my surprise my life is revealed as a tower of blocks -
One secure because it has been built on the Rock.
Regrettably I often try to oversee what I don’t understand.
Aware of this I declare: “Lord, I’ll stop interfering; I’ll follow your plans.
“Help me to use wisely each block placed in my hands.”
Language of the heart
The ballet. The ballet.
Stories on a stage.
Spinning. Dropping.
Bodies forming words
For my captive soul to hear.
The opera. The opera.
Passion fills the air.
In tragedy, euphoria,
Each resonating voice
Entwines my soul to theirs.
The theatre. The theatre.
The world’s ensemble here.
Costumes opulent. Costumes scant.
Hyperbole in face and moves
Mimic my soul’s every plea.
Each day life’s played out
On a timeless formless stage.
Through smiles and tears, heart and limb,
I am captured once again;
Then heart to heart there comes to each
This universal language
With which our souls can speak.
Facets
The nude relaxed; first lines were drawn.
The flesh found life in the pastels’ warmth,
The charcoal’s edge and the paint on board.
The session over, the work approved…
Yet how can one thing be so different too?
The group united by the subject they’d used
Were also divided by viewpoints, medium and tools.
And so is life of every birth -
In breath we are one people,
Divided by culture around the earth.
Portrait of a fool
“Gather round, help me all.”
Brush in hand the Artist bade them all.
“Who’ll sit for me? I’ll frame it fine for thee.”
Seeking fame they formed a line,
Heads held high till the Artist spoke this line:
“I’ll paint it true. I’ll name it ‘Portrait of a Fool’.”
Self-assured they stepped aside…
Not one left! The Artist was not surprised,
But knowing their hearts he challenged their minds: “I’m glad to see that I’ll meet you all in eternity.”
At his words they were perplexed;
The meaning could not be guessed.
Concealed in his message was this truth:
Only they turned from the Lord can be titled as a fool.
Invitation to dine
There is no right or wrong when it comes to brands,
And the choice is yours whether your meat is grilled or baked;
If you prefer orange juice to tomato,
If your muesli is toasted or flakes.
Nutrition through a balanced wholesome diet
Is what healthy living entails.
At the Lord’s table we are invited to dine.
It’s irrelevant whether those who serve us
Are rabbis, pastors or priests;
Are female or male; wear civvies or robes.
Only that the Lord himself has prepared us the meal.
Don’t knock the manna
Sustenance is not determined by lavish fare displayed,
Rather by what you need to meet the rigours of the day.
In the gift of life is where true value’s found and weighed;
Every other blessing is the garnish on the plate.
Living water
Taste of the water; be filled with the Lord.
Once you have knelt there he alone will you thirst.
Taste of his wisdom; be nourished with the Word.
Once you have sought it, nothing can match its worth.
Taste of his power; be guarded by the Sword.
Once you walk with him you’ll see your foe is cursed.
Taste of true glory; be humbled by what’s heard.
Once you are redeemed all his is also yours.
Signed, sealed, to be delivered
I stand alone, nowhere to go;
Unarmed I face my foe.
Afraid, “O God please help.” is all I can say.
He answers my plea with a promise he’s made.
I smile, ready to fight. Chosen, marked, I bear the Lord’s sign.
No banner or arms, just his Spirit inside.
I say: “Victory is mine. Do as you will, you’ll not take my smile.
“I am the Lord’s whether I live or die.”
Called to heart
Saint Andrew’s cross
And a single heart –
Common elements
On which to build and each unite.
From the people of generations past
Came the mien I’d walk in.
Mottoes, emblems – history, future set in ink.
To the people I now turn,
Older, wiser, their message I have learned.
‘To be worthy of arms one must prove himself so.
‘To be a soldier of worth one must live by his creed.’
In Proverbs we are told
That above all else,
We are to guard our heart,
For it is the source of life’s consequences.
For generations present and past
God designed our walk with him
As prophets and apostles were given pen.
Disciples, we in turn
Share the Message our heart has learned.
God so loved us all he sent down his love
To crown us joint heirs if his Son we receive.
10 It was in the fine print
Born abroad
‘Home is where the heart is.’
A cliché perhaps,
Nonetheless the truth.
These words wistful
Cut if you’ve been severed from your roots.
Home is more than buildings,
We all know that -
The house is not the home.
It’s more than walls
That hold us
Till we venture on our own.
Home is not merely people
Known to us as kin.
With bonds of blood for mortar
These births, these deaths
Form the bridge
Spanning our life’s waters.
Home is not built on memories –
Treasures in our mind,
Or heirlooms kept since time.
Neither eyes nor hands
Can hold dear
What’s most valued in our life.
Home’s locale is not in history
Where ancestors great
Were honoured with plaques on walls.
It’s not these monuments
Ascribing worth
That keep us standing tall.
Home is not a place built or bought,
Lost to war or handed down.
It exists where past and future meet.
Home is an appellation
Timely inscribed
When our heart’s at peace.
Face to face with you
Through the blizzard in the night
There burns a soft glowing light;
From the dark I’m freely drawn
To let this glow my numbness warm.
My surrender sets a sunset hue
When I’m face to face with you.
In life’s labyrinth I wander,
Crossing waters too deep to ponder;
You are the rock that keeps me anchored -
A bridge to horizons answered.
My every thought finds meaning too
When I’m face to face with you.
When tossed about on stormy seas
And anguish brought me to my knees,
I bow my head to seal my fate
And waive the right to navigate.
I see my fears made passive too
When I’m face to face with you.
While in sun-kissed fields I play
And feel the heavens touch the day,
Or waves gently fill the shore,
Consumed I think there can’t be more.
Yet still a spring comes gushing through
When I’m face to face with you.
Though I plummet to the depths
Your arms are there to give me rest;
To lead me beyond darkened bends
To where it is my journey ends.
There, all my battles will be through,
And I’ll remain face to face with you.
Unsettled
Discontentment…
Insecurity…
We begin the search again
For a niche to suit our purpose,
A façade to match the phase -
To be fulfilled, be accepted,
Until it’s time to move again.
Through infancy
To maturity
Our shells are cast aside.
If we could just accept ourselves
For the creatures that we are,
We’d be settled with our image -
No more vagabonds to be.
The searcher’s trail
They search, they cry for the nagging inside.
They hope, they buy, then wonder why
The trinkets and charms can’t make them smile.
They read. They listen to stories of old.
“The magic’s the power.” they’re glibly told.
Too late they find their soul has been sold.
Empty, they’re filled with the ways of night.
They deal. They drink. They do what they might
Only to find they’ve wasted their life.
Still they come to the searcher’s trail –
The young, the old, the strong and frail.
Till time’s end they will come not expecting to fail.
Blindly they search but will not be saved
Unless they find that path God paved.
That one alone leads beyond Judgement Day.
Links
Searching for Atlantis…
Finding no answers.
Seeking the dead in Giza…
This puzzle is not easy.
Cities without mortar!
Who would have thought or
Dared believe in such power
At so early an hour?
What of pictures so designed
They’re best seen from the skies?
Or ancient monuments of such skill
They are standing still?
While studying the Sphinx,
Others hope in a link
To what’s intrigued them thus far -
The earth is a crypt, centuries deep,
No one yet has found all the keys.
Perhaps in the soil from which we’re formed
We’ll find our link – the fingerprint of our Lord.
Clarity of vision
In communion with the Lord I am taken to a place…
On entering, my eyes immediately fall on The Table of Learning.
My first impression is that it is a felled tree. How wrong I am -
It is far more than that; yet what it is defies description.
Its surface is solid yet crystal clear. Still two paces away I study its bowels.
Moses, who since my arrival has been patiently waiting, asks:
“What answer do you seek?”
Not a word can I utter. Nothing seems important anymore.
Prompting me with my own thoughts he urges me come closer,
To look in, but unprepared for what I see I turn away.
Wisely he offers: “If you cannot accept the reality of your own reflection
“You’ll never be able to see beyond it and be no good to anyone at all.”
He gestures to try again. Focused by the lesson I have learned
I am soon overwhelmed, indeed how can such a privilege ever be borne?
Space, depth, time, emotion, even life itself are all somehow there
In this living form.
Allowing me time, he beckons and we walk to the table’s end.
Engrossed in conversation I trip on what appears to be a root
(Part of the table I presume), Moses continues on.
I am left wondering what all this can mean.
Intrigued by his acceptance of this event I pause to reflect.
I consider my toe…there is no pain, no, but significance is revealed:
In following I too have got caught up in the Law.
Delighted by this revelation I am keen to go on, to unburden my soul;
So with the table our hub we do this four times in all.
Only now am I aware that a being, infantile in appearance,
Has been hovering silently, sprinkling the table’s surface with water from a jug.
Not a drop ever settles because each, like polish, the table absorbs.
This being enthralls me. A creature pure yet cognizant whose piercing eyes
Resemble two huge cut gems, brilliant blue in colour.
Seeking the relevance of his presence I ask: “Does he have a name?”
In response to my question a name is spoken and though my ears hear it
Only the meaning do I receive: ‘Clarity of Vision’.
At this I understand what my visit is for.
Just a thought
On facing reality: Life is a marathon. To finish well requires pertinacity,
nothing less. Each day however is a sprint.
Success here depends on motivation at the start.
On ignorance: The learned are those who understand that with
Knowledge gained comes the revelation that volumes more remain.
On equanimity: This is granted to those who accept that they are
not responsible for the whole show, only to do their best in the role given to them.
On conviction: Equipped with resoluteness and courage, it is the capacity to go
Past the last chartered point - into territory regarded ‘beyond belief’.
On commitment: This is found in the belief that the risk of dying en route
To fulfilment is preferable to falling asleep in the comforts of apathy.
On accomplishment: A goal can be likened to the summit
On a distant mountain peak. Though some distance away it is still within reach.
A dream is the misty cloud embellishing that peak –
It cannot be grasped, only experienced once it has been reached.
On perfection: The climax we hop
e will be reached by marrying the plan with reality.
On love: The miracle cure we all hope for, indeed need. To experience its healing
Power we must be prepared to pay the price asked – total surrender.
On happiness: Something that cannot be added to or depleted by life’s highs
And lows, but grows with the understanding that in God we are blessed.
On Godliness: We are but channels through which God speaks.
Keeping the channel free of interference such as fear, bias, pride will ensure
His message comes through clear.
A mountain of time
Time is like a mountain we’ve determined to scale,
Yet with every step taken we find
Circumstances ensure we are two steps behind.
For the sidetracks are plenteous, each offering so much to do,
All full of new things to see. Back on the road, fellow
Travellers abound – each with their own story to tell over long
Cups of tea. Each step of the journey leaves casualties too,
Each needing assistance, encouragement and care. Undeterred,
We continue till the weather turns sour, prompting the query:
“Will we ever get there?”
Yet if we follow a direct course to the top and close our eyes
When the signs read ‘Stop’, we will not have given time to
Look and behold; leaving hidden treasures undiscovered.