Trimming fat

off his soul

he searched

for the bone

 

With every

new slicing

his consciousness

honed

 

All waste in

the fire

to sizzle

and fry

 

Excesses

like smoke

rise forgotten

— incised

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

Tall grass above

a sleeping dream

Hiding what

His promise deems

 

Embedded deep

within the blades

New whispers seed

as life conclaves

 

The sun to mirror

God’s new day

Each ray He grants

new hope in play

 

That rises softly

through night’s travail

An open petal

— as Grace prevails

 

(1^st Book Of Prayers: May, 2025)

 

 

 

First

Last

(and)

Always

— say something

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

Do you have

enough scars

to help others

heal

 

Or wounds

that stay open

the past

uncongealed

 

Did you suffer

in silence

each moment

of pain

 

Did all hope

leave you orphaned

alone

and profane

 

Is your counsel

of value

when the weak

come to call

 

Can you see

through the trauma

and cushion

— their fall

 

(1^st Book Of Prayers: May, 2025)

 

 

Snippets

of the truth

being a

little bit pregnant

 

In the

promise

of a dream

eternity sleeps

 

Freeing

tomorrow

with each moment

recaptured

 

All time

in an instant

as the music

— begins

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

He died

in a whisper

alone

in its presence

 

The call of death

weaker

than what he’d

been told

 

Wading into its

shallows

each step

took him deeper

 

Reluctance

and acceptance

 both swimming

in turn

 

Each voice

every motion

he passed

toward the bottom

 

The pressure of

choosing

now

drifting away

 

In denial

and waiting

the past

floating above him

 

But the end

of its

shouting

— had finally begun

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

 

 

Every act

is a link

in tomorrow’s

chain

 

Connecting

our promise

again

— and again

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

We can’t make

all the bad things

 good

Just knowing

all that didn’t

should

 

We can’t wish

what stays real

away

Or lie

to keep the truth

at bay

 

Yesterday

today

tomorrow yield

The leavened

‘Word’

forever sealed

 

Ad infinitum

minus

one

Salvation’s

path

— is zero sum

 

(Sister Marcella: 8^th Grade Religion Class, 1962)

Only a few

make a pact

with the wind

 

Only a few

know the joy

there within

 

Free of the shadow

that follows

and stalks

 

Escaping

tomorrow

in moments recaught

 

Horizons lie waiting

as pilgrims

embark

 

Voices like magnets

pull light

from the dark

 

Only a few

hear the music

on high

 

Through handlebar

portals

— embraced by the sky

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

 

 

A higher

but hidden presence

than God

Surrounds his nature

eternity’s

pod

 

Existing over

and deep

within

Its seminal essence

 forever

begins

 

Averse to our choosing

and freedom

blind

Professing nothing

but itself

in kind

 

And blacker

than the

blackest hole

Obverting time

remains

— untold

 

(Villanova University: May, 2025)