I told you
That we could fly
’Cause we all have wings
But some of us don’t know why
– INXS
Edward Burne Jones
The Golden Stairs
Click on the pic for a larger version.
30 Jun 2006
29 Jun 2006
undervalued pinnacles
standing structurally unsound like piano high notes
breaches of heaven, cutting into veins
blood sky was not fulfillment
world did not end with the coming of the storms
quiet now
bad dreams only seem
pain can be forgotten, harder
joys upside-down still joys
inside out makes it mean
back to now
where could you have gone
strangely comfortable in the absence of time
flight, the moment
fuel fueling fools fooling
just another one here proficiently skeptical
as if nothing
26 Jun 2006
White cliffs that hide the mountains’ height when one looks up from the beach, below; clouds that have meaning in the shapes they seem to describe, as if our dreams lifted off from within our minds’ eyes into the heavens; rivers that flow in constant rhythm, as if time traveled down them, rode the currents steady, fish who swim within them never to grow old… I painted images within my imaginings in dull technicolor, all that a mortal visualizing could generate, and then I understood that it would serve better in words, which could invoke in greater hearts much the more spectacular sights: if God Himself would read them, I could wonder what the pictures would be in His cogitations, and how incredibly wonderful and strange they might be.
23 Jun 2006
It should be noted, at least by those who accept Christ’s claim to be God, that he by no means fits into the picture of the “mystic saint.” Those who are fascinated by the supposed superiority of the mystic soul might profitably compile a list of its characteristics and place them side by side with those of Christ. The results would probably expose a surprising conclusion. There is, in fact, no provision for a “privileged class” in genuine Christianity.
– J. B. Phillips
oblivion open for business
too many people saw the signs, who lied
within myself i found lost
utterances the child said to no one
like all hauntings, desiring exit
outside strange starry wanderinglike apropos
winds of the clock, around and around
signifying so heavily it all can’t fly
a depth zero, infinite
dreams that couldn’t be built in time
the shrapnel of creation
wounds we have always denied hurt
until we felt around for that final switch
we didn’t have the heart
20 Jun 2006
When people find out I’m a Christian, there is a certain set of assumptions they have about me, not really good ones, either. I’m being stereotyped, and it wouldn’t bother me except what such a reaction means about the state of Christianity in this country. People who look down on others, but do so only by trivializing their own faults and magnifying their neighbors’, who in no way measure up to their own sense of moral outrage. Crazy eyed fanatics who threaten hell upon readers of children’s books, those who know nothing of science saying that it doesn’t mean anything to them. Those who think they understand a book written thousands of years ago, when they know so little of history, and how things change, how we do not follow such statutes like stoning someone for not keeping the sabbath.
America is full of those of lukewarm faith, who rather than changing themselves, wish to impose their own world order upon those who largely are better than they. Yes, better: I recall what the Nazarene said to those who held the cards in that society: look, the sinners and publicans go before you into heaven. Those of you who think you are on such high ground, thanking God that you are not like the one next to you: when he thumps his chest and asks for forgiveness, it is he, not you, who will be justified. No, I myself am no holier than you, but that: do you comprehend what kind of understanding this is? I am almost ashamed to call myself a Christian, sometimes, and the reason has nothing to do with Christ. We will one day find out that for all our knowledge, how utterly wrong we were. Some of us realize this.
17 Jun 2006
When love comes to town I’m gonna jump that train
When love comes to town I’m gonna catch that flame
Maybe I was wrong to ever let you down
But I did what I did before love came to town
I was there when they crucified my Lord
I held the scabbard when the soldier drew his sword
I threw the dice when they pierced his side
But I’ve seen love conquer the great divide
When love comes to town I’m gonna catch that train
When love comes to town I’m gonna catch that flame
Maybe I was wrong to ever let you down
But I did what I did before love came to town
– U2
15 Jun 2006
I looked at a printed page today and felt as if I understood the magic, the technique behind the trick. The secrets open up for me and let me in, still, more and more, as I wear on in years. The construction of a book, how paper is made, then the type for the pages arranged, and the work printed, then bound — and more, how they are packaged, shipped and distributed, advertised, and sold, to finally reach my hands. And before that, how the idea is first thought of, the initial spark that leads to notes, that leads to research, writing hour after hour, as far as inspiration will carry you: I have thought of all these things, how from nothing something is made. Even if in our case, it is merely rearrangement of molecules already present instead of ex nihilo as Our Father has done… wonder how the magic works, even when you know.
13 Jun 2006
flowers grow in my mind, petals made of light, flickering
butterflies like breaths of impressionist paintings maneuver in
the world out there calls me, so far away is the place called here
11 Jun 2006
We have need of patience with ourselves and with others; with those below and those above us, and with our own equals; with those who love us and those who love us not; for the greatest things and for the least; against sudden inroads of trouble, and under daily burdens; against disappointments as to the weather, or the breaking of the heart; in the weariness of the body, or the wearing of the soul; in our own failure of duty, or others’ failure towards us; in every-day wants, or in the aching of sickness or the decay of old age; in disappointment, bereavement, losses, injuries, reproaches; in heaviness of the heart, or its sickness amid delayed hopes. In all these things, from childhood’s little troubles to the martyr’s sufferings, patience is the grace of God, whereby we endure evil for the love of God.
– Edward B. Pusey
I feel as if I begin to sense the pages of destiny writing me in, and that I am at the where the plot begins to thicken. Has my life been in preparation for what is to come? For we all at one point in our lives feel as if we are meant for something, even if that feeling passes, or is beaten out of us. Myself, I have had dreams crash to the floor, and swept away; but another one I build upon where the foundations of the old once stood. And perhaps they are merely like stacks of cards, or of bottles, easily shattered. What is to come? Not even the wisest may know it — not at least some of the time, at any rate, and we cannot conjecture what times the prediction will not hold. Now, I stand at a precipice, and wonder if I could take wing on an updraft, or if it is merely and illusionary wind. Only one way to find out: jump!
7 Jun 2006
Most happiness is a happiness that does not look too deep. While sorrow seems to come from the inside out. And to be happy is always a risk, while sadness is the certainty; joy climbs precipices that always tempt a fall, but the lowlands of blue… the gravity there is quite stable. It is also written that the house of wisdom is a house that is in the depths of the somber, while the folly of the world is held in frivolous joys. Yet with all these things in mind, one imagines that without knowing for sure, everyone holds as the default meaning of life being the pursuit of happiness. If only it seemed to dwell within someone as sadness does, if only it were not merely the dappling of the creek in the sunlight: if happiness ran as deep a water as the requiems of our emotions. Perhaps there is logic in it, but I am not so sure I will ever comprehend it. Or perhaps that is the point; maybe I’ll just go out and play now.
4 Jun 2006
I used to make love under a red sunset
I was making promises I would soon forget
She was pale as the lace of her wedding gown
But I left her standing before love came to town
I ran into a juke joint when I heard a guitar scream
The notes were turning blue, I was dazing in a dream
As the music played I saw my life turn around
That was the day before love came to town
When love comes to town I’m gonna jump that train
When love comes to town I’m gonna catch that flame
Maybe I was wrong to ever let you down
But I did what I did before love came to town
– U2
