I remember those mornings, on the darkish country lanes of England.
Thinking silently while inhaling the fresh, damp, cold,
While the motorcycle hummed beneath me,
It was not a distracting noise, rather soothing.
As the ride gently moved from dusky darkness,
As light seeping onto the planet,
Awakening my day.
What a delight I have enjoyed all my life,
Seeing and feeling the day and night,
Its temperature changes,
And most of all.
Let me replay these days again,
To feel the touch of God in my life today.
And why when light falls or fades,
Meaning becomes obvious to me.
They are always there,
More people awaiting quietly
In the darkness
Cold, naked, silent,
Facing front and the light
But somehow not seeing it.
So I turn once more into the deep,
Peering intensely until the shape emerges
Once hidden but now clearer,
From silhouette to form
Until, motionless they call out in silence
The silence of emptiness
So I am called again to walk to them
And place the cloak of warmth
And love and safety
Around their naked body
Releasing their frozen dull form
As we walk together
Towards a visible light
I wake in the morning and all on my mind is packing,
Finding it all in the drawers I used,
Not leaving the charger of my laptop
in some forgotten corner,
Thinking of what time the plane will leave,
Of what the traffic will be like,
Of time for breakfast for not.
This last day,
Instead of relaxing and reflecting on the vacation together,
Of time in the Bistro,
Walking the streets,
Visiting the Cathedral,
Or admiring the view,
I have already left.
So packing will be relegated to
The last minute,
And packed away in its proper place.
A small exercise on my journey,
Essential but irrelevant in the grand scheme.
Never to dominate or control my day again.
Let me into your life,
Let me be close to you without restriction,
Just open to listening.
As a human who loves you.
Even though you do not know me;
At all or well.
It matters not.
For we can be friends like no others,
Just be being open to each other,
The three of us can rest in each other.
This beautiful day.
Let mistrust be gone this day.
And let the only change be borne of God’s desire.
Not my selfish needs.
Love is Him
Love is pure,
Love is fullness
Love is in each face as we pass by in
And cannot be extinguished.
Love is safe.
Which chair is the one waiting for me?
Or a spot for me to stand,
And let others sit,
According the to the color that suits.
Perhaps just good enough I have paused to see the view.
Flying at daybreak of a New Day,
Life’s work is reflected on an ocean of love,
Behind me, above me, below me,
Let your love lift this wings,
To do your will,
In my new servant hood.
On this blessed dawn.
Dear saint of our isle
….. What a wondrous song.
I never really heard the words before
But now they shout from the mountain tops
And deepest canyons of my soul.
It is whence I came,
The Celtic root,
Where I return on my knees to lough Derg each year
In an attempt to understand.
Why someone said they saw St Patrick
Walking across a parking lot
On a Saturday afternoon
At a church in New Hampshire mountains.
That was me
Searching for an identity
Steeped in roots of religious change
Fifteen centuries ago
And ready for the same today.
For then they mistook God for the sun and the land
When now we deny his existence
And live in a void of emptiness
Filled with noise and self-love.
For Love is all around
waiting to be seen.
Knowing at first sight is not a feeling,
It’s a sense of onlyness.
This person is the one,
Beyond all others,
Desire is inadequate,
Because there is no avoidance in the move towards her,
As there is no “no” in the option list.
That will be perfected in how ever many years we have together,
And many indelible stamps and souls left along the way.
I love her now, as always.