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Roll-on

Roll-on

The wheel of time
understands when its journey
is ready to move to another level.
The circle rests until it’s time to
roll-on.

Book of Hours/ 8:00 a.m.

BOOK OF HOURS/ 8:00a.m.

 “Keeping watch…
in the morning
when I began to wake
it happened again

 That feeling
that you, Beloved
had stood over me all night
keeping watch

 That feeling
that as soon as I began to stir

 You put your lips on  my
forehead
and lit a holy lamp
inside my heart.”

 ~~~Hafiz

8:00 a.m. Hour

  In between branches, your light exudes revealing open spaces.
Open spaces in no need to be filled—instead, they become
endless windows allowing you to shine through.  I sit beneath this
tree—before me, a sea which looks like a sheet of glass.
You slide majestically over the stillness.  A fish breaks the surface…it, too,
mindful of this hour, this beginning, this fierce spectrum
of fire that would consume us if we were any nearer to its
vibrancy.  From this distance, your radiant splendor
kisses not only my forehead, it bathes my soul in
a warmth that ignites a soft whisper.  The whisper is my
pursed lips blowing you a kiss…as if you needed my kiss!
Wait, you do…your longing, deeper than mine.  You wait and
wait for me.  You rise and I believe I hear you say,
“Kiss me again.”
And, I do, I do, I do.

Pray with me in this hour
9:00 a.m. will arrive next Monday—
Promise you will stay…invite another!
No worry if you pass.  I hold you in all the hours remaining.

 

 

Beating

Beating
Even if you

‘cut’ me down,
I will find the
will to keep
beating.

Book of Hours/ 7:00 a.m.

BOOK OF HOURS/ 7:00a.m.

 “When it is over, I want to say:  all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.  I
was the bridegroom, taking the world into
my arms.”

 ~~~Mary Oliver

 

7:00a.m. Hour

A sweet intoxication fills the air.  The prayer this hour
tasting the essence of familiarity.  Far from ripe, yet
having been ripe, a renewal cast within waiting
for the union of this moment, timeless expectation.
Soon the earth’s movement will sway enough to
allow the wedded bliss of light to cast itself
on every morsel of open space—AMAZING!  Though this hour,
this season, not open for blossoming, yet, ‘inside’ a pregnancy of
swirling juices surging, unseen.  In the veins, and within the
wood, life carries, it revolves, transforms into what will become.
This prayer, like this process, round and round!  Sometimes
I feel as if I am chasing you, then I almost have
my hand on the third daunting presence who now sneaks in
between us and chuckles.  Then, I glance, and neither
of you there—Gone!  Now, two chuckles heard from behind me.
You both in pursuit of me.  Rolling in the green grass,
I begin to laugh.  Try it…simply laugh.  Laugh out loud.
Do not worry if you are heard.  Preferably, you have found a
place of solitude.  Let the laughter out until tears pour down
your face.  Really, I pray you will
try it.  I just did, and I am in wedded bliss
awaiting what is soon to light the dawn.

Pray with me in this hour.
8:00 a.m. will arrive next Monday—
Promise you will stay, invite another!
No worry if you pass.  I hold you in all the hours remaining.

 

 

I Love U

I Love U
Is there really
anything more to say?

Book of Hours/ 6:00 a.m.

BOOK OF HOURS/6:00a.m.

 “I’ve learned that people will forget what
you said, people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget how you
made them feel.”

 ~~~Maya Angelou

6:00a.m. Hour

 Oh, that we could stay right here.
Please…look at the sky, its colors…
Who spilled the paint cans in such divine wonders?
How did pink merge into orange, and soft yellows
gather beside violet and blue?
We are moving. I drag my feet in the soil wishing
this hour eternal.  Why?  Look, look, can you not
see the beauty?  The Artist’s easel—filled with endless pastels!
You are laughing at me, again.  No matter how many times
I’m awake at this moment, I’m like a new born
splashing from its mother’s womb.  It is a new day,
another dawning inviting us to believe in a world
untouched, expanding, growing, blossoming, dying—yes,
ending to fall back into the earth and rise again…Resurrection.
My prayer is a color wheel spinning round and round…
Dabs of green, deep browns…and
I kick off my shoes, my feet run across jagged rocks…I am not harmed.
I slide down a waterfall—I am soaked, praying I
never dry.  I breathe, I go under.  Wait, I am still
Breathing!  I am not holding my breath.  You take my hand,
my left hand, Spirit holds on to my right hand.  You both become wings.  My body,
a temple–the center
and
we fly…this hour, we fly to greet what
will impregnate this dawn.

 

Pray with me in this hour.
7:00 a.m. will arrive next Monday—
Promise you will stay, invite another! 
No worry if you pass!  I hold you in all the hours remaining.

 

Wally

Wally

Frigid temperatures.

He sat outside on
stacked crates.

The establishment had no
issue allowing him in
to use its facilities.

He was known to several
regular customers
—kind words, smiles exchanged.

One day, when he was inside,
he discovered ‘something.’

He did NOT announce,
“Look, look at me,
look what I’m doing.”
No, he quietly turned over
his findings to the barista.

A man came running in, shaking—
His wallet returned.

This gentle ‘giant’ of a man
homeless~~~honest…

“He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother,” Wally.

Book of Hours/ 5:00 a.m.

BOOK OF HOURS/ 5:00a.m.

 “Hope is the thing with feathers that
perches in the Soul—and sings the tunes
without the words—and never stops at all.”

 ~~~Emily Dickinson

 

5:00a.m. Hour

 I am lying here…I fit so comfortably in your
curl…I know some things are changing and dramatically.
Your light fading, yet a light not so distant is filling the
sky.  I spread my wings splashing into the black ocean
that has held us in these hours.  Like a coin tossed in
the air, heads win now, tails win, too.  I reflect back,
but the tail, yes, the tail that is you, curls around
bringing me face to face…clock ticking, my pupils
restricting.  I rub my eyes…the stars present, yet
soften…this hour like a caterpillar breaking from its
cocoon and a metamorphosis ensues.  Born again, a set of
wings.  Have I been crawling all these hours, well,
these few hours, so vast, that I did not see how you wove
around me allowing me, too, to be born again?  I ask
again, who am I, and who are you in this hour?  Will you tell me
some-thing in what ‘becomes’ in a ‘blink’ of an eye?
Oh, endearing presence, I love how you are there in
between the ‘blink.’ There is no-thing separating
the hours.  Though the image created new, you are in
all inviting me to see, who I, too, am in all.
How can I keep from singing!

Pray with me in this hour.
6:00 a.m. will arrive next Monday—
Promise you will stay…invite another!
No worry if you pass! I hold you in all the hours remaining.

 

 

 

A Wheel Barrow

A Wheel Barrow

The wind hollows—
the snow drifts piled high.

I set out—a wheel barrow in tow,
colored flowers
filled its trough. 

For a moment,
I could smell the fragrant
flowers…

as snowflakes
tickled my nose.

Book of Hours/ 4:00 a.m.

BOOK OF HOURS/4:00a.m.

 “RE-examine all that you have been told…
Dismiss that which insults your soul.”

 ~~~Walt Whitman

4:00a.m. Hour

 You begin to diminish…Wait!  Why?
Why does the hour pass so quickly?  I turned a moment…
my finger, wishing it to be like a fishing pole I could cast, that I might catch you,
and lure you into my hand.
I wanted to hold you, cupping your ‘light,’ praying you would
never disappear.  A snag is on my line—I tug, tug again.
The line breaks…is this all an illusion?  I have heard
so many interpretations of The Beginning…so many tales,
but what if it is all a fairy-tale?  What if there be no
pages to turn directing us to a story explaining
existence?  Why is it we need an explanation?  Who is it
we assume knows the truth?  There it is, that word—Truth!
If we stand before a vast sea, you look out, I look out,
and the unassuming ‘presence’ lingering beside us looks.
All at once, we speak aloud what it is we see.  We each
hold a vison of the truth before us.  Each of us
standing on the shore, gets into a boat, set sail!
We lower the mast…the waves carry us.  We do not
choose the direction.  We sit in this hour hearing one
another’s truth.  The waves settle, we rock and rock.
We no longer see the shore.  Does that mean it no
longer exists?  You fade…I know you are there.
How ‘this’ all came to be?  Yes, countless explanations.
The only stirring—swimming in the sea of my thoughts.
Can we make this lasting for our children, their
children and all created ‘things’ longing for
Life to-day?

Pray with me in this hour.
5:00 a.m. will arrive next Monday—
Promise you will stay…invite another!
No worry if you pass! I hold you in all the hours remaining.

 

Looming

Looming

Quiet, serene…timeless.
Below, the darkness—
looming.

On top, soft flakes,
white like flour
ready for baking.

In between,
what is not visible,
is the blossoming
already
begun.

 

Book of Hours/ 3:00a.m.

BOOK OF HOURS/ 3:00a.m.

 “You are not a human being in search of a
spiritual experience.  You are a spiritual
being immersed in a human experience.”

 ~~~Teilhard de Chardin

3:00a.m. Hour

 Although you are whole…in this hour,
half of you revealed.  My lens captured you.  I cannot begin to
count the images photographed.  Even if someone were to step-in
stealing what fills the page, I know you are there.
Perhaps, my prayer is a million photos without words.
Click, Click, Click, I hear the night…this night.  I’m often
asked, “What is it you do out in this hour, and why?”  How can
I give a rational reply to a call that nudges so
intimately I cannot help but reach and touch the echoed
refrain.  In this time, I hear the soft cry of the morning’s
first bird lifting its feathers unleashing its song.  I hear
the engine of a car starting…soon the world will awake
to busy-ness as usual.  I hear my steps.

I stop long enough to hold the silence.  Half-hearted,
I turn my whole-heart in each direction.  Clouds
cover you for a time being.  I know you’re there.
You are never gone.  I immerse myself until
the clouds cover me…still, I’m here with you,
and the ‘other’ touching the shutter button, zooming in
and out…more ‘shots’ fired.  I’m still standing,
and only the simplicity of sweet “nothing-ness” heard.

Pray with me in this hour…
4:00a.m. will arrive next Monday—

Promise you will stay…invite another!  No worry if
you pass.  I hold you in all the hours remaining.