Ashes in lashes,
Dust becomes rust
Enter this Temple,
in You I trust
.
Three stones at the altar
Five moors to the creek
Seven days for hunting
Nine chains that peak
Ironclad crosses
the blood that seeps,
red through this armour,
wounds what weeps…
Enter this Temple,
enter it full,
From the grove, the forest —
my Lord, my Rule
(C) Christine Ueri
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..
He can change hearts
even yours..
We reproduce ourselves
as we touch those around us
what seed do we sow?
If we land on fertile ground
will it turn bare and fallow?
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Image by Karen M Scovill (C) 
All I receive
these days
is junk mail.
Now I no longer
have the need
will you wear
my shoes?
—————————————————-
Image (C) Carlos Barria /Reuters
An infinite dome of sky was expanded above us
an ocean of firmament of which the dwellers among
houses and mountains can have but little conception.
The troops of glittering stars,
the dark, the shrouding night,
the unaccustomed voices of my companions,
deepened the awe that oppressed me, and,
as I stood between them, I became as earnest
and occupied as themselves.
I forgot everything but the incomprehensible grandeur
of the universe revealed to me,
and the majestic sweep of planets
across the field of the telescope.
What a freshness of awe and delight came over me!
What floods of thought came,
wave upon wave, across my mind!
And how insignificant I felt
before this wilderness of worlds!
- Hesba Stretton – The Ghosts in the Clock Room in Charles Dickens’ tale ‘The Haunted House’.
————————————–Photo by Greg Rakozy
How far could I throw you?
The distance between us grows more and less..
Swamped by rapids and torrents
sweeping debris downstream
eroding every sandbank
every creature’s home of dreams
pulling on weeds and reeds
that populate the banks
irrigating flood lands
without a word of thanks
Such forces here faced
buried deep in to bedrock
a boulder immersed in waters deep
clear water for the flock
The gushing noise it causes
could illuminate our fears
But rather not still water
growing tepid over years
Such solid rock is moulded
constant force of river wide
smooths out all imperfections
buffs the surface to a shine
no watershed moment could
make a boulder weak
one so vast and solid
made from mountains’ peak
————————————–Photo by Beverly Nguyen
Count the stars of heaven 