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Poem

Cruel the words that bound.
Holy Spirit guide me,
I pray.
“Exalt the marvel of life.
Paint with thanksgiving
Your colours on Her palette.”
May countless His mercies be.
I must have done some right.
I thank my fathers.
I thank my Mother
for Her labour.

I paint the pictures.
How pleasing to me
sitting by the stream.
Loving the sounds
as water sings,
over rocks and boulders.
Willows strung by the wind.
Notes…
filling the bars of my soul.
What a magnificent opera.
Angels ave,
Thanking Her for Her labour.
Exalting the marvel of life.

Beauty it seems 
is there.
Beauty it seems
is here.
Beauty in the spirit-
what shall be!
Pray my spirit
arch with rainbows
into my tomorrow.
Dancing stars
my dark alight.
Spiritual Mother,
As I wean on Your breast
I pray for Your eternity.

Meandering thoughts;
one said.
How green the valleys.
Lilies thanking me,
you and them
(there and then)
Dynamic this All Soul.
What is Your plan?
Casting pebbles in Life’s pond?
Each resonating Her silence.
Rippling a miracle-
Birth?
Death?
“Heed the rhythm of life.”

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