s n o w

A short video poem.


Journal Entry 3

ecstasy of the Illumination–
how the time always stops–
loving in the inner space
projected to the outer world

a hand upon the shoulder and
lips touched by fire

grace abounding in the Eyes of
forgiveness and a soft word
from the tongue of Love

Journal Sonnet

Singing songs all through the night.
A torrent of drumbeats filling the air.
Awake in prayer until dawn’s light
bursts onto the horizon.
A song of hope and one of sadness
turning our zeal into sparks of gold.
A song of clarity and one of madness.
Always an endless turning.
Leading us to the timeless singing,
the path we take is the path of God.
It’s not the taking, but the bringing
of Light into the world.
Time for labor and for contemplation.
Time for servitude and for emancipation.

Nothing Shall Harm Them

Sweat and the electric beat
of drum and brittle guitar

as the sway of the faithful
moves to the words of an
unknown tongue.

Spoken with fire, spoken with
urgency, spoken by the flame-
kissed lips of an unknown

angel descending upon the
unworthy soul of an ecstatic
believer. The words move

and take hold in the center
as the eyes go white and the

tempo increases to match the beat
of the rising prayer going
up to G-D as the spirit of G-D

descends upon the people,
moving them to do the Will
and be unafraid.

The faithful raise their fear
unto the LORD and by the taking
up of every serpent,

prove their faith,
showing themselves to be unafraid
before the devil,

filled with the Holy Spirit
in the prescence of G-D Almighty.

Nothing shall poison them,
no unholy spirit shall harm them
as they take into their arms

that which they fear and
by the Spirt have overcome.

Dying Prayer

In my time of dying
may my heart loose
its bonds
to every entanglement
it has knotted
in this life.

May the winds that move
through every tree and
leaf of grass
take my final breath
upon their whispering gusts
that I may move as they move.

In my time of dying
may I be released
and may all who remain
know me, feel me all the more,
knowing I am not gone.
I am as we all shall be.

I am as we all
were always meant to be.

The Praying Hands

With hands, I pray.
With hands, I sing.

A silent tongue
but a gleaming eye
in every work
and every deed.

Some sing with
harp and lyre.
I sing with hammer
and chisel.

Each stroke a symphony
of ringing notes
bellowing forth from
pickaxe and saw.

The hand lightly touches
the tools of its voice

and lays grip on its song
as I begin to pray.

Prayer Of The Gifts/Prayer Of The Paths

May I do my best
with what You have
given me, O Lord.

May I accept Your gifts
and blessings with gratitude.

May I always offer
the works of my hands
back to You, knowing
You are the source of my talents.

Lay Your Hand on my head
that I may not become haughty
in the gifts and talents
which You have provided,

believing these gifts
come from my own devising
and not from You, Maker of All.

Raise up my heart, Lord,
that I may see You
and grant me patience
when my vision is dim.

Be the rock of our salvation,
O Lord, and lead us safely
in the paths which we walk.

A Worker’s Prayer

O Lord, Heavenly Father,
Creator of all things
visible and invisible,

bless, this day,
the works of my hands,

that an unseeing world
may see You, not me,
in those works,

and that the work
I do may be acceptable
to you, to whom we give glory.

May Your Kingdom flourish,
O Lord, in this world and
all worlds, all ages.

And may we always be
steadfast in our resolve
to do the work You ask of us

and committed to the task
of preparing the Kingdom
for the coming of the King.

May the Lord bless all
who labor and toil
by the sweat of their brow

to sustain themselves
and sustain all people.