Psalms

Dawn breathed a fresh hue over the dark sky as the temperature dropped a couple of degrees in preparation for sunrise. Some days I wake with a heavy weight on my spirit, other days that weight is lifted, but this morning was different. Overwhelmingly grateful and surprisingly stable I rise from the table to examine this new angle. A ritualistic stray from my materialistic way. Into the mystic to stay. I’m planning my great escape. I’m not confined to this cave. The stone’s been rolled away. As needle meets vinyl and coffee fills cup, with eggs on iron my world wakes up. Fruit on table, in bed, and on vine. A sacred waste of time. As dew dries and birds harmonize, the sun loses its grip on the horizon and gets sucked up into the sky. This beautiful space is a slave to time. Existence like incense it’s gone in an instant:

Will your fragrance be psalms of worship or fumes from a war ship?

-Vagrant Saint

 

(Art= Swedish Painter: Marcus Larson 1825-1864)

 

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On the Turning Away

On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we won’t understand

“Don’t accept that what’s happening
Is just a case of others’ suffering
Or you’ll find that you’re joining in
The turning away”

It’s a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting it’s shroud
Over all we have known

Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we’re all alone
In the dream of the proud

On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord

Using words you will find are strange
And mesmerized as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night

No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside

Just a world that we all must share
It’s not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there’ll be
No more turning away?

-David Gilmour (Pink Floyd)

By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and truth.  (1 John 3:16-18)

“Thank you for letting me borrow your jacket. It kept me warm in a cold place. Some people, no matter how much money they make, can’t get out of their own way.”

(Art= German Painter: Caspar David Friedrich 1774-1840)

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Ash Wednesday

Thunder in the distance.

Thunder within us.

Burn the veil that blinds me.

Let ash fall all around me.

Loosen the ties that bind me.

Illuminate the shadows that hide me.

I’m on a blood trail.

I fired three arrows into the sky.

Where did they fall?

One in my third eye.

One in a wolf’s hide.

One in my pride.

I’m on a blood trail.

All colors and shapes unite.

Bring light to where they lie.

Send life before they die.

 

-Vagrant Saint (The spirit moves. Surrender to the giver.)

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