how shall i praise thee?

thou art in essence more than fields of lilies,
more beautiful to behold than rivers of moonlight,
sweeter than berries of the glade.

thou hast calmed this heart
and stilled this troubled mind.

without a word,
legions have fallen before thee;
thou hast saved mine ear -- nay, my very soul --
from all ravages of mankind.

i shall always be true to thee,
my darling,
my lovely...
my Call Display.

photo link

cheers

to the good ol' blokes
who couldn't hear nothin'
from the lad
who raised his glass
and lived harder
than i've ever seen

beach vacation

it's when
water rushes to shore,
takes a rolling gulp of sunshine-air
and rubs its belly along the sand
before turning
to make the long commute
back to the deep

i don't believe

in tortoise-beats-hare and
happily-ever-after
around here

can't believe

in prayer-soaked hankies or
miraculous television screens
for the faith-full

don't believe

that tongues of fire or
paul-and-silas sing-alongs
are for me

but i really can't believe

that our Maker's back is turned
on all this beauty
or all this pain

so i really do believe

that He came
to show me how welcome i am
and how needful it is

to believe

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--

and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God--

not by works, so that no one can boast.
For we are God's workmanship,

created in Christ Jesus to do good works,

which God prepared in advance for us to do."

- paul, to the ephesians

"For by him all things were created:

things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible,

whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities;

all things were created by him and for him.
He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.
And he is the head of the body, the church;

he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead,

so that in everything he might have the supremacy."

- paul, to the colossians

worship

drunken with paintings all scrawled-over "Vincent",

i stumbled across the gallery

and through the doors of a chapel.

its ceiling was blue -- like heaven, i guess.

its stained-glass colours were artificially lit

and i didn't think much of that.

i turned to leave

but

the song.

one voice, reaching from behind,

catching my hand:

it turned me around.

a choir of voices testifying,

swelling and filling the chapel

in me

i ran out of that little blue sanctuary,

found a bathroom stall,

and cried as hard as i could.

Spem In Alium - Thomas Tallis
National Gallery of Canada - Rideau Street Chapel

my favourite and my best (for dan)

it's what i love best:

the way you wake so quickly and quietly,
working away before i even know it;

the jobs i've never done in my life
that you do every day, in so many ways;

the mid-morning coffee breaks when we drive
"just a few ringers," and hold hands, and talk;

the little notes that contain fewer and fewer
grammatical mistakes -- they really do;

the way your head finds cover under a couch pillow
so you can wrestle your boys and nap at the same time;

the times you sign "i love you" out the van window
as you're driving off to another place;

how we were both too tired to make that old frying pan joke
on your birthday, but we still think it's funny;

the way you won't just sit on what is right
though you find yourself standing alone;

it's what i love best
that breaks my heart
a little tiny bit,
every day.

but you're my favourite and my best,
and i wouldn't change a thing.

to love

it's been a long time and it's getting late --
teacup nearly empty; still the music plays

today a high-school teacher
breathes deep, speaks love
through English tomes --
he's telling the story

yesterday a mother-artist
drove to the city, imprinted love
deeply upon her neck --
she's a preacher's daughter

tomorrow a preacher's wife
arrives in Budapest, clutching love
with a few belongings --
she's going to make a home

i have neither degree, nor tattoo, nor foreign visa,
but i'll raise my teacup and sing along

to love

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