...

Slumber...sleep, O somber soul.
Savor the sound of silent
songs of satisfying serenity.

O stop and sense the soothing
shade that salves the sickness
that settles secretly.

You're safe, O sweetness
of my spirit.

That Silenced Timber

Upon the edge of axes
pulse these veins of obedient
and humble servants.

What more must they give?
Abundant air...abodes
struck down for finite fill.

That Silenced Timber
at service to their Maker,
sharing all with neighbor:

Allowing them sustenance,
Providing life's shelter;
Breathing hope into tomorrow.

Breath

Freed. Fetters once binding now serve vainly.
How has renewal found its place here?
By what means does He call me?

Moved, I cannot return to this place.
Every pace plodded makes place for progress,
yet doubt darkens eyes to see it.

Like a breeze drifting on dormant shores,
Your breath has swayed my inmost being.
Changed, I cannot return to former ways.

Led by Your call, I face forward.
Refined by Your fire, I am unburdened.
Breathe on me, that I may see.

Stained Glass

How, o sharded face, do you,
in all your stillness,
 in all your beauty,
radiate such calm?

With hands unknown,
beyond your speckled surface--
sought to draw one's eyes
into the mysterious.

Though...function fades
when purpose prods the
pristine portrait for
"perceived" purity.

Behind your pigments,
between the rebar;
who are you?

My own eyes are kept,
veiled to who you really
are...beneath the stains.
Blinded to the window
of your very essence.

Though unseen, though loved
for your disguise;
I knew you. I get you.
I see you as you.

Standing

As raindrops strike the graveled stone
and clouds double over, creasing time,
I am left standing.

Fear coupled with denial.
Lose coupled with gloating.
With feet planted and eyes transfixed,
both eternity and I are left standing.

What more am I than a sentinel?
Is not this night standing vigil?

Mingle with me, O Mystery!
Give form to that which hearts desire.
That I may know you as you, me;
so at daybreak, I'm found standing.

51

Just as waning wicks seek completion,
my heart aches for You, O Lord.
In stillness, in silence, in fragrant clouds;
Thy words and my words rest unveiled.

Why me, my King, do you reveal
Thyself? These eyes, these ears sense
only feebleness.

But worth was never in question.
Desert was never your cause.
A broken and contrite heart,
O Lord, you will not spurn.

Library

"If every one of them
were written down...
the whole world would NOT
have room for the books!"

But this is pretty close.
As far as eyes can see,
resting...desirous to be held,
tower Thomist tomes--
all bound together
and for greatness.

Oh! How the mind
needs this knowledge
to knead the nakedness
that thought occupies.
With every word, the veil
is torn asunder.

This smell of aged pages
fill not only lungs, but hearts.
For if truth cannot divorce,
lust only ventures elsewhere.