I didn’t see steal your car
I didn’t wreck your life
I didn’t break your heart
I didn’t want be your wife
I take you as you are
No longer keep a score
In fact, it was you, my friend
Who knocked upon my door.
Hard Knock
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Author Archives: aperture
Illuminate
It is not a situation where
what you emanate
reaches me unchanged,
to reflect what you radiate.
It is the essence of my being
to take in and absorb
the streams of mercy
that flow out from your source;
feed me and make me whole,
make me grow beyond my limits –
strong, broad, I tower over all.
You give your all to me,
I soak up your energy
preoccupied with you
Until the fall..
Dearest Hope
I hope…
keep yourself from feeling
resentment at my leaving you
here, my dearest.
It is joyous to depart,
do not let sadness taint
the inevitable start
to a “new” day.
Do not hold it against Him,
let comfort cover you
and soften the impact
you feel after free-fall.
It will save you, bruised not broken.
I am nothing but
a haunted house
occupied by a Ghost
that keeps all others out.
I fear it not, for it dispels all fears
– the hate and the fight –
it lets in the light through darkened shutters,
breaks down inhabitable disguise.
I stare into your face
no mask, of self – a trace,
an empty broken shell
awaiting to be whole
and filled with life anew.
No cold, hard, barren ground,
broken fossils incomplete
no slowly sinking mound
weathered turf, carved concrete,
chiselled words standing proud.
Within one heart rests humanity, whole –
my only other hope is you are there
once you too, are grown and old.
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Image source
gnosco
I know all that I need
to manage my pain.
You have the cure.
Would you knowingly
keep it from me?
To be part of something
bigger than the pain
to show our people
refrain to say ‘no’
To laugh, sing, cry,
to bring relief is
- to know.
Clearest Blue by CHVRCHES
Image
Clearest Blue
Hidden deep
While brothers and sisters were engaged
in a turf war on a global scale
A cold front, hardened, caught adrift
Floats away without mainsail
The emptiness perturbed them
As far as the eye could see
But watchful for horizon
Warmer shores come expectantly
But, little do they know how
a hot sea current can act
Upon their frozen precipice
They have escaped the simple fact
For underneath the narrow tip
the sea sick clambering, cling
A hull full of dangerous cargo
in the underbelly bring
All baggage, loot and baffles-full
of stowaways, bilge and gas
No room for living passengers
Just a burly lump of mass
The lot on top think handsomely
of their talent at nautical stuff
But from Captain down to Seamen
They’re playing blind man’s bluff
While many heard their tale
of floating like sea birds
Many passing ships do fear
The invisible iceberg.
Open Doors
True life
“Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife,
Some pure ideal of a noble life
That once seemed possible? Did we not hear
The flutter of its wings and feel it near,
And just within our reach? It was. And yet
We lost it in this daily jar and fret,
And now live idle in vain regret;
But still our place is kept, and it will wait,
Ready for us to fill it, soon or late.
No star is ever lost we once have seen,
We always may be what we might have been.
Since good, tho’ only thought, has life and breath,
God’s life – can always be redeemed from death;
And evil, in its nature, is decay,
And any hour can blot it all away;
The hopes that, lost, in some far distance seem,
May be the truer life, and this the dream.”
– The Ghost in the Picture Room by Adelaide Anne Proctor, in “The Haunted House” by Charles Dickens.
All may enter
Image
I came upon a midnight clear,
following a star,
traveled over dark terrain
not measuring how far.
Finally I came near
to where the Saviour lay,
peering in I caught a glimpse,
a baby in the hay.
Though many were drawing near
I stealthily kept pace.
At the entrance to the room
I saw a hardened face.
“Can I come in?” I humbly asked.
“I’ve no incense, oil or gold
I bring myself to worship him”
The One whose birth foretold.
The keeper of the entrance
Looking down on me, grim
Took in my appearance, said
“I cannot let you in,
you’re not a king, bearing gold
and oil is for the dead!
Your incense is not pleasant
perhaps you’d bring a ram instead?”
I fled away to distant land
and waited for the time
to meet him when he grew
to know this Saviour is mine.
I heard every Word He said
from his birth to the tomb
in the streets, or temple court
sitting in the outer room.
When finally His breathing stopped
My heart nearly did too
I waited near and mourned the day
Not knowing what to do.
When he arose he conquered death
His grace had found a way
to make my gift acceptable
Now I await the day,
When I can see Him come again
I need not touch His wounds.
I have felt them for myself
and long for His coming soon.
——————————–Earth image source
Ego
‘Tis a weed in the garden
Do nothing to make it grow
Some think it’s just a flower
Daring where it shouldn’t go
Through many will multiply
And choke the others dry
Some, worse are hurtful
Prick your fingers till you cry
Just to show how incessant
cursed ground, set apart, they are
I plucked out a whole garden full
here, you see my scars.
