song

I have been wanting to write a hymn. That hasn't come yet but here is a little song.


 My song

God moves my feet

To dance with confidence.

The joyous beat,

Trust in his abundance.

Days of sorrow

Washed clean with the promise

Of a tomorrow

Full with joy that’s endless.

Knowing the past

Completely purified.

All at last

Was under sweet Love’s guide.

God brings my voice

So joyfully clear.

This is my choice

To sing that Love is here.

The Afternoon of the Fawn

Afternoon of the Fawn

The ballet skirt

is made from her mother’s petticoats,

full and white with layers to bounce

and fluff in high circles

 like the wings of a swan.

A silver safety pin

cinches the waist tight.

Red brocade slippers

bought from a street stall

in the China town

far down the highway

that twists through mountain canyons

like a great serpent

then sleeping flat and dull for hours

 arrives at other canyons,

THE city.

The smell of sandal wood incense

caresses the small toes

encased in their private temple

of beauty and elegance.

Carefully, a shaking hand places the needle

as her mother’s  record spins,

don’t scratch it!

and the music of Debussy

floats like the soft mountain breeze

filing the room with the scent of pine

as the red slippers twirl

in the loops of the hand braided rug.

The Afternoon of the Fawn,

she had been told the name.

As she dances

a small spotted deer,

like the ones she had seen

snug to their mother side

as the car sped past,

hides under ferns

and runs in dizzying circles

round the trunks of pine trees,

on the braided rug.

Years later,

She learns of satyrs and the half goat faun.

The Afternoon of the Faun.

But when the music plays

the meaning is clear.

Debussy had it wrong

And a tiny spotted deer

still dances in the ferns and evergreens.

Chasing dolphins

Today I was blessed with a dolphin pod all to myself.  There were dolphin boats, lots of dolphins actually, but one large pod was swimming around in the waters between the 1.2 buoy and the shore. Maybe the water was too shallow for the boats.

I had my paddle board so I attached it to my ankle and swam with the dolphins.  Roya would say chasing the dolphins. For half an hour I followed them.  Then I got a bit tired and stopped and I could see one spying me from the top of the water. Then they came back to me as if saying, "Where were you?"

I have to add that while I was swimming I was being in harmony with God and all she creates
 ( relaxed and joyful and singing.)

About that time a group of seven dolphins began swimming close under me and not swimming ahead.

This is my pod.

They let me stay with them and would surface  right where I was.

Then off we would go together.

I really think that if I hadn't swum around with them for half an hour they wouldn't have let me join the pod.  So the question becomes, what is chasing dolphins and what is joining the pod? Perhaps it has to do with your mental attitude and Love.

two poems Bits and Pieces

Bits and Pieces

               

The door of the refrigerator

Is telling stories.

The spoon full of chopped olive

Sits in a globe plastic jar

Begging to be remembered.

The catsup has one squirt,

Not enough for half an avocado

But too much to toss out.

Lilkoi jelly was too much

For today’s pancake

But tomorrow needs a new jar.

Bits and pieces

Fill the shelf.

At the same time too much

and too little.

Blueberry Stain

The blueberry smear

On white china dish

Turns purple.

Blueberry acid

And alkali soap,

Chemistry 101.

The sponge scrubs it clean.

Pancake morsels stuck

With lilikoi jelly

 All succumb.

But a faint purple

Remains to call out

“Blueberry pancakes

Were eaten on me!”

How many days

Or weeks or long years

Will we know the story

Of blueberries pancakes.

Poems are everywhere

Poems are Everywhere

Poems are everywhere.

They wait patiently

In the dark of the refrigerator.

When the light shines on

They jump out at me

Spilling the catsup

And tumbling over olives.

They hide in the blueberry smear

On the dish I am washing

Telling me where the berry

Grew ripe and bold

And the chemical composition of

dish soap bubbles.

They slip in the crack

Of the brown lanai boards

And emerge as brilliant green

Transformed into geckos

That devour moths

And crisscross spiders.

They whisper

 From chipped toenail polish

shiny blue, white on the edges

telling the stories

Of stretching into soft wet sand,

Bare footed on velvety avocado leaves

Or tip toe to change a light bulb.

A poem sneaks from a single word

Rattling around for days

Inside a mind

Too busy to listen.

But the word will not be quiet

And a poem drums in to existence

From nowhere.

  

Driving alone

  Driving Alone

I drive alone

From the mountain to the ocean splash.

Heavy traffic on the queen’s highway,

Will no one let me in?

Take the opening.

Grab the chance

To squeeze between the cars

All moving so slowly

In their lonely line.

Slip out of line

And again down the mountain.

I drive alone.

The jeep in front of me

Pauses

A cheery call 

A friendly arm

Wave to the girl

All in black

Walking by the side of the road.

She laughs

Waves back

the encounter gone

 on down the road.

The jeep driver’s shirt is royal blue

The waver’s shirt is just as royal

Purple.

A gym bag of ruby red

Is tossed without care

 behind the seat.

Tethered to the back

A bicycle

Ready for the road

For now its energy contained

And staring at me

Like a captured gazelle.

The driver turns and talks

The passenger laughs

They waved at the girl in black

But I caught the joy of meeting

And I drive

No longer alone.

insparation

Inspiration

No poems

Have magically arrived

Typed into a word document by

the shoemaker’s elves.

Are there poem writer’s elves?

 Fairies, minahunis, or pixies?

I suspect there are computer gremlins

But do they write poems?

No.

Poems must be thought,

then written.

They begin like the gentle raindrop

Collected by the reaching blade of grass

That gathers in secret places.

To puddle and pool

from a thought to an idea,

Until it escapes the limits

of the silent

and must be spoken.

The poem like the water,

Makes riverlets in thought.

Small channels pull on the present

And bring with them

 pebbles of the past.

Collecting the power of focus

in streams then rivers

Flowing with the force

And excitement of the new.

Then, like a water fall,

crashing on the rocks

of insipid existence

the poem

coalesces in the quiet pond

just beyond the bewildering splash

 and flows quietly

into being.

Butterfly flight

Butterfly Flight

A butterfly wings across open ocean.                               

How long will the salty air support its flight?                

Do the sea breezes tell of fragrant flowers                                    

Freeing their furled petals after foreign nights?                    

What butterfly dream of sweeter nectar

Provoked a tour of ocean’s glint and sheen ?

How long does safety beckon from dark green shores

Before the blue of sky and sea becomes supreme?

Is it courage, folly, or unthought flutter,

Or perhaps just the need to beat splendid wings

In a rhythm of singular counterpoint

To the undying song that the siren waves sing?

Now has no Shadow

The Shadow of Now

I wash dishes  

And plan to swim tomorrow

 Or maybe hike.

What would it be like

To see a friend for lunch?

Do I need new shoes?

Perhaps a shirt?

Don’t forget

to pay the bills.

I pick up a dish,

The last to dry,

And realize

I lived

The shadow of now.

I was not really there.

Did I stop to notice

the shine of clean?

Did I remember

the joy

of service

for my family?

Did I see

the love I gave

And honor

the sense of order

            articulated by me

            as God’s expression.

In full light of perfect presence,

Joy shines

             Exuberant!

Now is full

            of the best of good.

What could be better?

But yesterday’s argument

            With my mother

Cast its long shadow.

How wrong she was.

The gloom builds

And shady fingers

Reach to cover Now’s light

And maybe tomorrow

I cannot do the work.

There is so much.

So many burdens.

“What if”

sends a shadow

Lurking from the future.

Where nothing has happened

But fear.

Or anticipation

            of tomorrows good

That has not come to pass.

The shadow of the past

            joys, regrets, failure, and successes

            casts the long past noon silhouette

To shade the now.

Competing ghost of future possibilities

            potentialities of good

            worries for hurt or harm

            throw darkness

Over the vibrancy of Now.

Now has no shadow.

The glow of present good

            shines from within

            eliminating all possible

            shade or gloom.

Now is always glorious.

Be in the light of now.

It has no shadow.

comments

Sorry, I had the comments settings incorrect for the blog. Please comment.  I love to hear for you.

page still up

While working on the computer a notice came up, “Browser open.” I had minimized something some time ago.  It was off my screen.  I couldn't see it but the computer knew that everything was still there. To the computers “eye”, consciousness, nothing had changed. This made me think of when we no longer see a loved one because they have passed on.  Their “page is not up” for our eye to view but to God’s “eye”, consciousness, nothing is changed.  Their identity is just as complete as it was before.

facebook

Facebook/Face to Face Book

9-2-2014

I like this, they like that

Friends share what they see

Where they have been

What they eat (really?)

Pictures posted, comments made

Who are you following?

Do they know who you are?

Do they know who you really are?

Should you care?

Who knows you best?

Face to face

Friends on a page.

Face to face

Fire on a sage.

Turn aside and see

The bush is burning.

Are you looking?

Who are you following?

“I have seen God face to face

and my life is restored.”

Who knows you best?

Enter into the closet

Shut the door and talk

Face to face.

God, what do you know about me?

I am your idea,

I reflect your abundance

Your beauty and creativity.

If I look face to face

Do I see me?

No I see you.

Look on the page.

What is posted?

Places to be.

On the shores of Galilee.

What did they eat?

Manna also for me?

New pictures up?

The oldest is new,

“God created man in his image and likeness.”

  

Comments?

“Be yea therefore perfect

even as your father in Heaven is perfect.”

I think I’ll comment too,

“Yes, Father, Mother God,

you know me best.

I’ll follow you,

And open the Bible page.”

Memory Walked

A Memory Walked

A memory walked.

We started together up the hill.

Two and two

Father and daughter

Discussing problems of far away cities.

Mother and son

Singing and making funny noises.

Lilikoi became soccer balls.

The father walked backwards

In small steps up the hill

And the son caught him

For just a moment.

All together

A meditation from the grassy top

Of the ocean’s distant heart

Sitting on the coffee farm’s edge.

A memory walked.

We started together down the road.

Pennies in the gravel

Promised infinite wealth.

Fallen wormy  mangos

Filled pockets

Unprepared for sticky spheres.

The father’s pace lengthened.

We laughed and tried to leapfrog him

To take the lead.

But soon his long steps

Took him around the bend

And he crossed the highway

While we watched for

Traffic on the other side.

A memory walked.

We started together up the trail.

Roots made stair steps

And castles for beetles.

Tree trunks covered their bark

 in coast of moss,

protection from a misty rain.

The trail rose and twisted like  a bronco

shaking the rider from his back.

The father turned a corner up ahead

And we were left

To create our own joy

Seeing beauty everywhere,

Sharing alone.

  

A memory walked.

We started together through the forest.

Bamboo stalks built a cathedral above

And with the wind

Played a hymn.

A wooden path zigged and zagged

With the mystery of a “who done it.”

Leading on

any steps that chose to dance

To the ballet that the breeze designed.

The leaves whispered.

The bamboo played the marimba.

Time and the heart stopped.

The Father had zigged

Then zagged out of sight.

Was he still in the bamboo catherdral?

deep in the moment

Deep In the Moment                                                                      6-26-2014

Time stretches taut.

A tight rope we walk

Always forward.

We think that looking

Futureward

Far or near

Will keep us steady to the goal.

That look,

Off to some distant good or fear

Blinds our thought

To now.

That look,

Far behind with joy or sorrow

Blinds our thought

To now.

There is no line

Of time directional.

Stretched with fear

Of beginning or ending.

Sit and rest

Soft in the moment.

Let go the rope

Be in now.

Sink in

Float up

Sing free as a bird at dawn

And hear every other song

Sung deep

 in every other now.

One now

Only one now

Every only one now

Always sung together.

Rough water

 I love to swim.  Here in Kona I swim from the pier and follow some buoys that are set about 1/4 mile apart. I LOVE to swim when the water is calm like a mirror and I think about God and his wonderful good creation as I glide through the water.  I usually avoid the ocean when it is choppy as the waves splash salt water in your mouth when you try to breath and it is a lot of work.

A few weeks ago I had been praying and felt very close to God before I went down to swim. When I got there the water was very choppy.  There was a big surge which is the huge surfing waves that roll in from distant storms.  Those waves were coming in from the South. There were big surface waved left over from a storm the night before. Those waves were coming in from the South West. Then there was a pretty good wind kicking up the tops of the other waves from the North. This meant that not only was the water very rough but that there was no rhythm or pattern.  Normally there would be no way that I would swim on such a day.  In fact there were only three other swimmers getting ready to go. (Usually there are a dozen or so swimmers at any one time.) 

I was feeling so connected to God that I got the message to go and swim anyway and have no fear.  I swam along completely relaxed and continued to think about God.  To my surprise I felt like I was gilding through the water as if it was flat. When I turned to go back at the 1.2 mile turn around it was amazing fun to go with the waves back home.  It was like one of the best carnival rides.  I had so much fun.  One of my best swims ever! The other three swimmers were rinsing the salt water off when I went to the shower.  One man was telling the couple that he had only gone to the 1/2 mile because it was so rough.  They said they had gone to the 1.2 turn around as I had and he told them that they were awesome.

The point is not that I had such a wonderful swim but that I learned to not be afraid of rough water. We see problems coming at us from lots of different sources and we try to go it alone and show that we are strong swimmers.  We wear out at the 1/2 mile like the man at the showers.  But if we relax because we know that we are going with God we not only can go far we can have a good time doing it. Don't worry about troubles (rough water).  Just say to God, "I am going to have fun going with you and I can't wait to see your grace expressed here."

Go with God and have fun.

Watching Rainbows

This morning I was watching rainbows. The rain was on the ocean and the sun rose over Hualalai Mountain making the perfect condition for rainbows.  The clouds were white and puffy overhead with blue sky peeking through so I
watched a beautiful arch reach to the clouds on my right then another stream of color leaped from the ocean to disappear into the clouds on my left. Both were the landed feet of the same arch with blue sky and puffy white clouds forming the apex.

 




This made me think how we are part of the same rainbow. God's light shines through us and we reflect back glorious color. The right side of the bow this morning was busy shining on the town giving the clustered roofs a special glory.  The left side of the arch touched the ocean, far down the coast, which had the grace to reflect it back from the mirrored water and begin to complete the circle. From the two shimmering sides of the rainbow I could know where the top would be even if the blue and white of cloud and sky didn't didn't refract the full range of the visual pallet.  I knew it was there.

 You and me, we are all part of the same rainbow.  You are there with your amazing colors shining    and I are here, reflecting off the ocean.  Those we don't see now are up in the blue and white where our limited human vision doesn't see but God's glorious arch shows us that the bow is there.

Often we just look at rainbows.  This is  rainbows watching.

Beyond words

Beyond Words                                                                                          9-10-2014

I want to reach to meanings beyond words.

Words jail knowledge

Into neat packages

Like processed food on the grocery shelf

Tasty but with the nutrition sucked out.

A label for everything,

A category for every bug and bird

Building and grain of sand.

If it is new, undiscovered,

Previously unidentified

And thus not found in dictionaries,

Catalogues, or on the internet,

Then make a new word

To control the new thing

And don’t let it escape again

Into the realm of the unknown.

Capture all with words,

Forged in the past

With steel bands of tradition

And the ball and chain of history

Dragging meaning backwards.

But the unknown

 Is more than the known,

And I am caged by words

That keep me safe

From the brittleness of the inexpressible.

I am captured by my culture

By my planet

By the stars in the Milky Way.

Yet I suspect

That if I let go of words

The world inside a raindrop

Would let me in.

broken heart

 What Do I Do With This Broken Human Heart?

By Kit Kurtz  8-29-2014

What do I do with this human heart?

     It               is             broken.

One day he walked into a hospital

on the other side of this sphere we call Earth.

I was not with him.

At the end of the day

The morsel of cake he was eating

The sip of juice he drank

The doctor’s best efforts

And all the machines

that building had

Could not

make him stay

in Earths gravity

and he floated off

without me.

He was my best friend.

He was my husband.

He was my life partner

But now that promise,

along with others made,

is broken.

Now,

What do I do with this broken heart?

I tried to bury it.

Deep

 in a place where I thought

I couldn’t find it again,

And live free from pain or hurt.

But my heart is not dead,

And it won’t stay buried

like a dead thing should.

It is just a broken human heart.

I tried to mend it.

I am good at mending.

Human stitches for a human heart.

First forgiving.

To polish away

The patina of old hurts

And wipe clean the newly discovered mud.

Next releasing.

Wondering and watching,

while sitting still on a paddle board,

Why does the thing I just dropped,

in the ocean by my side,

Float away from me.

I wanted it by me.

No.

It must go on its own path.

He and I are on our own journeys.

This is not new news,

just the intertwining

is now released

And the currents take us separately.

Then acceptance.

Neither of us is distant from God.

Neither of us has less

Of joy

Or love

Or even life.

So what do I do with this human heart

That hides in dark corners

To grab at my ankles

As I walk past,

Full of the purpose

of a new life,

And tries to trip up

my progress.

Crying to me,

“You can’t go on so fast.

Can’t you see?

I hide here broken.

You MUST care for me.

You must be governed by me.

You can’t be whole when I am broken.”

I stumble.

I look and think

That I am no longer whole.

I tell myself that it is OK to cry.

I have the right to be sad.

And that is surely true

if a human heart

governed me.

But angels still sing

behind my eyes

And in my heart

is joy.

Why?

I remember who I am.

Nothing I have done,

Nothing I have experienced,

has ever been

Separate from

Love,

God.

The expression of life

That seemed to be a flow of human years,

Traveling together with him

To see the beauty

This earth has to offer,

Making a family

To share all we had,

Growing better at

being, and listening and loving.

All this,

Was the expression of God’s being.

Love always guided,

And kept us like a pearl,

The irritating human grain of sand

Gaining layer after layer

of beautiful caring

Showing us

the impossibility

of irritation, anger, misunderstanding.

All that happened was God

Being just God

The peaceful walks

Along the lake

Through the city

Under the holy dome

Up the mountain slope

Showed the wonders of Soul.

The urgent discussions

With quick wit

Nurturing new ideas

Discarding paradigms

like worn out cloths

Indicated only that Mind

was there to inspire.

The joy of growth,

A daughter,

A son,

Bringing unthought blessing,

And laughter at things

 that were never before funny,

Proved Life to be the master creator.

The frustration,

The fight to find what was

honest, sane, or real,

Forced Spirit to be our guide,

And loose hold on

The world’s easy solutions.

Compelling us to

Turn our back on

The partial good or evil

The world eagerly offers

And reach for the crystal clear

truth of Principle.

So what do I do with this broken human heart?

Nothing.

My heart is not human.

It is part of the whole of Love

I listen and know

That Christ comes,

Always,

“To heal the brokenhearted.”

I go with a whole heart.

Thin Ice

I am like thin ice

The crystals that form over the rushing winter stream

Fragile

Covering over

The rushing

The turbulents through my mind

Of when, why, what and how

A winter stream swirling with doubt and cares

The thin ice of my calm

The joy

Cracks again

Pieces swept away like rafts of hope

Vanishing in chaos

A whispered thought

Gratitude

Just gratitude for all

Beauty that is mine to see

sweet love in joyful smiles

Builds to trust

All is ever given

Nothing is ever withheld

From overflowing gracious heaven

Calm makes my thin ice thicken

I am a clear exquisite expression

Of ordered Principle

Crystalline

I am wealthy

Gentle gifts, holy and pure

Supporting me, defining me

I am trustingly tranquil

I am thick ice

Sure, unbreakable

Impenetrable,

the raging whys of broken trust are meaningless

the stream leaps with imagined fury and

I do not shatter

I am ice

Serene

Sure

Freezing solid the waterfall of doubts

Rising over

Above

To skate away

Beyond time.

I forgot

                                            I Forgot                                                                                                7-1-14

Let me begin by saying that for me cell phones are simply for communication, talking communication. I don’t text and my web surfing is with my computer. Then, ping, a red light flashing, a friend had sent a photo message. It took me a while to figure out what the ping that came through the phone was.  Then it took me more pushing this button and that to figure out how to show the message.  I learned a lot about the phone. I found out that you could go straight to messages by pushing the top left-hand side button and that there was another way to go to contacts.  I found another way to get to “history” and even figured out how to delete unused contacts. It was like finding my way through a maze. One button led to another menu with more choices and options within those that click.

It felt like it could go on forever.

Then….. I found that every time I pushed the green TALK button to make a call all I got was “history”.  I could call my contacts. I could call the numbers in history but I couldn’t call any new numbers.  I went to sleep thinking that my phone is broken and that I have to call the wireless carrier in the morning. Somehow in getting to that picture mail I had “broken” my phone.

 The next day I called the wireless company. The tech department tried to help me with the problem. I explained that when I push the green TALK button all I get is history and I couldn't dial a number. They walked me through all sorts of fixes and then put me on hold to do more research.  While on hold I checked Mom’s phone and it did the same thing.  Oh?  Hummm.  So I dialed a number first and then pushed TALK.  Of course that is how it is done.  When the agent came back on I just said that the “problem“ had fixed itself being too embarrassed to say the truth, that in all my exploration of the phone I forgot how to make a simple call.

This can be like our prayer.  We pray.  We know how to connect with God.  We get useful angel voices all the time and we act on them for good results. We look around us and are awed by God’s creativity and love. We know how to make a direct call to God: listening for the still small voice.  As Christ Jesus instructed us, we enter into our closet, the quite contemplation of God and man as his expression. It works every time.

Then we muck around in a mortal problem. Like my phone, we push this button and that. We make choice after choice from the myriad material options presented to us.  We try this. We try that. We push all the mortal buttons until we forget how to make that direct call to God. Next time I get too involved in pushing mortal mind’s buttons and get lost in the maze of options I’ll stop myself before I forget how to call on God.

porcupine

Wisdom teaches how to love porcupines. The human mind tells us to be afraid of the quills. But God gives the understanding to pet the porcupine in the correct direction.

How close is God

How close is God?

You are God’s giggle

The smile of Love

            so pleaded with herself

for thinking you.

You are the blueness of blue

Or is God blueness and you blue?

Can the thought of blue

be separate from blue itself?

That is how close you are to God.

God is the ribbon of Life

and you are a beautiful bow

showing off the glory of the ribbon,

                        Showing off the lifeness of Life.

You are lifeness

Inseparatable  from Life

Spirit shines through you

Like warmth is part of fire

You can never be cold

For cold is not part of fire

You are the clear crystal

That Principle creates

with its harmonious order.

Not a flaw to prevent the passage

of Soul

     that shines through you.

You are the intelligent

“Ah ha!”

 that Mind uttered

            when she thought of you

“the expression of God’s being.”

Now God giggles.

You laugh.

Indivisible.

That’s the truth!

That is Truth.

the dream

For those who may not know, my husband, Cyrus passed on suddenly six months ago. He was 59.

A few nights ago I had an interesting dream. Cyrus was in the dream with the children, Roya and Dara.  We were traveling. We were exploring a city and we were down by the docks. It was empty but then suddenly a lot of people were coming off a ferry.  It was too busy so we were exploring a new "better” route.

Somehow Cyrus sent me by myself in a car to continue to explore up into the city and come back. I was investigating but the road became a freeway on ramp with only a small way to go that was not freeway. I took the small road but almost everything let to on ramps that I did not want to take. I knew that the highway would take me far away from what I wanted. But I got lost on the streets. They would not take me back to Cyrus.

 I stopped. Two women were there so I asked directions. The one woman gave me an amazing handmade map. I looked at it and said, “Wow! This is a wonderful map.” She said, “This is what I do.  I make maps.”

As I held the map it got bigger and better so I knelt down and put it on the ground to study it. I was putting pieces of it together like a lovely puzzle. I was kneeling down by my bag to studying the map and Cyrus’ voice came from the bag (like a cell phone that was on) and said with impatience, "Where are you! Where is my hat!  Where did you put my hat!  I need my hat."  I quietly said so he couldn't hear, "I gave your hats to Dara because you don't need them anymore." Then I woke up because I realized that he didn't need hats.

I usually don't read that much into dreams but this one seemed to have meaning for me. Interesting that, in the dream, Cyrus sent me off to explore on my own.  Is this my version of HIS passing on?  He sent me off to work things out on my own.

The freeway on ramps kept wanting to take me in the way everyone else was going.  I did NOT want to go that way!  Also I was unwilling to go in a way that I thought would not lead me back to Cyrus. But I stopped the stress of trying to avoid the highway because I felt lost. I was willing to ask for directions.

In thinking about my dream I think the most important part was when I asked directions of the woman and she gave me a handmade map. It was amazing. When I told her that this is a wonderful map, she said, "That is what I do.  I make maps."

This part meant to me...  If you ask God for directions she gives you a wonderful map because that is what she does.... guide us. It was very matter of fact. Like saying, “This is the way it is, I am always making maps for people. All they have to do is ask.” It really was an incredible map.  That is why I had put it down on the ground and was studying it carefully.  I guess that is another good part of the dream.... I was studying the map.

I am not sure about Cyrus wanting his hat. That stopped me from studying the map.  I think the point was to not get distracted by things that no longer matter.

I think it was a useful dream.

Forgive this insane world

Forgive this insane world.                                                                             6/26/2014

Abuse, stupidity, mistakes.

The roar, the scream, the yell

The quiet suggestion that all is not well.

Forgive this insane world.

A lie is never true.

Betrayal means I trusted person

Watch!

Who to trust?

Only God.

The world denies God.

The whisper is that all is not good

Come, live in my world

It begs,

Of pain, and fear, and hurt.

Insanity!

            To choose this darkness.

Insanity!

            To think that anyone can create

                        An element of not good.            .

Forgive this insane world

            for believing itself.

Forgive.

It is a lie.

A not true

A nothing.

Forgive.

Wash clean.

It is insanity.

A never.

A not.

A no.

To forgive is

To no longer believe,

To love.

And all is yes!

Yes, Mind, God

Is my thought

The only thought

The good joyful thought!

Yes!

All is forgiven.

It is only now

I understand that each moment is a brand new beginning. The wonderful good of the “past” gives us our courage to step into now with a joy that rings through our being and connects us to others. Whatever was not an expression of God’s good in the “past” has no power and is washed away, memoryless.