“a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation”
My compass is set:
Forward alignmed by faith through grace.
I do not control life’s challenges,
but I command my response.
I am that I live for my purpose,
not for the world’s praise.
I do not bend;
I do not break;
I do not look back.
I am that, I am of a human sponge,
Whom listens, observers and absorbs lifes lessons and learn from its mistakes!
For this is my creed!
Silence listens to the voices of the world, an echo lost in the abyss,
On the earth, a stray breeze wanders as the sky opens up,
God hears the silent pleas at the crossroads of silence's steps,
Silence breathes slowly at dawn's arrival, secretly inhaling the sunset.
Silence lies at the core of our soul, a paradox of presence,
At the edge of twilight, it stretches like a shadow of tranquility,
It knows how to gather cascades and breezes, a dance of eternity,
Silence is the ear of the heart, leading us to hidden peace.
Like a silent yoga master, my silence is sublime linguistic heaven,
It is the mantra that carries me beyond the overwhelming tumult of the world,
When everything becomes too much, I retreat into silence and live,
At the crossroads of silence's steps, where the soul finds rest.
Silence is a living paradox, a language of the heart that needs no words,
It embraces us with a firm hand, bringing us toward ultimate peace,
In that silence, I find the truth about myself, a hidden universe,
At the crossroads of silence's steps, where time dissolves into eternity.
and then...the wind swept
over the field like a whisper
that can be heard but ~
never understood
like forgotten dreams
the second we awake ~
were they quiet while we slept,
or a cacophonous frenzy
in which silence is noisy words
which translate to nothings?
we're better forgetting them anyway
lest...they trouble our day
like a barking dog through a picket fence,
yet, when we look, it's all not there ~
all that's left are windswept fields where
whispers are only ~ imagined?
Note: A poem is never finished; It's only abandoned - Paul Valery
Silence listens to the voices of the people
while on earth, a wisp of wind digresses
In heaven God listens to each silent call
at the footfalls of Silence...
Silence breathes quietly at the crack of dawn
respiring softly at the ledge of twilight sunset
Silence sits at the nucleus of our souls and lies
at the footfalls of Silence...
Silence is at the ear of the heart it does not speak
gently it leads us with a cupped hand to peace
It knows how to collect waterfalls and breezes
at the footfalls of Silence...
Silence is my linguistic heaven, my favorite speech
it is my mantra, my Yoga Master, my go to place
When things overwhelm I go to Silence and live,
at the footfalls of Silence....
In the deluge of the surging river of life
Flooding me with devastating agony
I feel my senses sink deep within
With the debris of somber spirit.
As from the eroded banks of existence
I see my time disappear in the wreckage
I hear the distant bell toll relentless
Waft faintly in the still air, calling me.
And then the music of life gets silenced
In the broken violin that I lose in an instant
Submerged in solitude I hear the murmur
Of the sonorous stream within my soul.
As I search for me in introspection
I hear it whisper the swan song of perception
Resonating with the penultimate rhythm
Of the soulful melody of the last symphony.
I transcend the limits of time and space
Yearning to embrace the perpetual peace
I talk to my soul to attain holiness for me
In the stillness of inner sanctum silence listens.
Silence listens to tremors of twilight,
spilled across shorelines bathed in lilac,
awaiting the soft sinking of the sun ~
soaked in storms of heavy heartbeats,
a Braille of dreams, a touch of secrets,
like the wind that feels and follows,
the cracks within the crevices of the moon ~
a ballerina lost in the music of grief.
Perhaps lips of horizon could taste,
savor, and drink in stillness,
when the world ceases to cherish kindness,
love that rests in the lungs of the skyline,
where sighs of stars reveal the veiled glow~
unspoken reasons written in quiescence...
But can the dusk trace the weight of trying?
This mind is a nightingale,
featherless ... forever restless,
held by ripples between the birth of hope ~
the shattering of nightfalls ~
swathed in numbness…
Throughout all the unyielding, cacophonous clamour,
Within the intricacies of intersecting timelines,
Overwhelmingly gnawing inside even the most remote labyrinths of your mind,
Silence listens to every rapid thrash of a trepidatious heart,
Adheres to the wheezing forced from infolding lungs,
Travels from one neuron to another,
Always looking for a pathway to calm your inner demons.
But in spite of all its longings to fix the trauma-laced flames licking your soul,
Its dreams are continuously unsuccessful,
As it paradoxically gets drowned by all the nightmarish noise.
A snow-capped mountain where nobody goes;
a forest thick with foliage and trees;
a river which meanders as it flows
through spaces that nobody likely sees;
an expanse of sand too wide to be traversed;
a tundra where no man cares to abide;
a spot deep in the sea that’s not yet cursed;
a forgotten weed-infested graveside.
In this world where so many places teem
with humanity and the chaos we bring,
there still exists the quiet of a dream
and nature has evaded mankind’s sting.
Where silence listens, sounds are wild or raw,
like wind-rush,
wave-roar or
simple crow-caw.
Find fortitude and strength when life gets tough
Keep going when the future's looking rough
Step back from those whose only claim to fame
Is deceitfully blackening your name.
Sadly there are those who will bring you down
Turning smiles upside down and brows to frown
They’ll get their comeuppance, yes that is true
For God knows exactly the bad they do.
He will look out for us, no matter what
Some things are certainly never forgot
So live in the peace that's truly deserved
Enjoy each moment, forget someone's curse.
Silence listens when one’s being back stabbed
One day those guilty will get their own back.
The pain in his face spoke loudly
a look of anger and betrayal
"I'm sorry," tearfully said
A pounding echo rang in his heart
"Please! Forgive me!"
His eyes slowly lifted, with a deep breath of quiet
She stretched out her trembling hand
feeling shame
He silently turned and walked away
Everyone reads what I write,
Except the one it’s meant for.
She never do.
She never will.
And I ask myself,
Do these words mean anything,
Or are they just a lullaby
For a heart that forgot how to sleep?
Maybe I write to lie,
To pretend silence was a choice,
Not a sentence carved into me.
I stitched my mouth shut
With thread made of shame,
The same shame they threw at me
Just for existing,
Just for breathing wrong.
Now only the page listens.
It takes my guilt like it’s used to it,
Lets my ache spill and settle
Like smoke in a locked room,
And when I write,
I’m dragging up the ghost
Just to bury it again, deeper,
Like maybe this time
It’ll stay down.
This isn’t poetry.
It’s a body laid open.
Every reader,
A witness to the cut,
To the blood,
To the wound that never closed,
Except for the one
Who was supposed to see it.
May loved her bedspread, vintage, fifty’s, yellow chenille
Worn in many places, but it still had a magical feel
She felt the presence of the former owner of the spread too
An elderly lady who had lived to the ripe age of one hundred and two
A guardian who advised May while she dreamed and slept
Wish my own children had listened to me, the old lady wept
Bedspread and advice were so sacred to the empath, May
She had it buried with her in her coffin on her burial day.
I see your smile
It embraces me
Tender earlobes listening
~
Holy-Wholly sweet lips speaking
Life
God’s mouth speaks life
~
His breaths in us
God listens graces us eyes vison
His Holy renditions
10/17/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr©2024
June 3 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Job 13-15
Key Verse – Job 13:3 Surely I would speak to the Almighty, and I desire to reason with God.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO LISTENS TO US
WHEN WE SPEAK TO HIM
Praise be to God for listening to us
when we speak to Him by His:
Grace about our guilt’s struggles
Goodness along His gift of salvation
Grandeur upon His granted strength
Guidance, girding our spiritual sustenance
Greatness, governed through His sovereignty
Job 14:20 Praise be to the Lord for prevailing over us with His:
Help against our helplessness
Holiness along His heavenly heralding
Hope to hover before our hopelessness
Honour that humbles us for our health-happiness
Hoisting against humiliating and hampering hindrances
Job 15:11 Praise be to the Saviour for
His consolations always:
Inspirational along His virtues
Innumerable and victorious
Influencing valiant vows
Important, never vain
Instilling values. Amen!
June 3, 2024
You barely know me
You make lots of assumptions
You never listen
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