Compline

The last blessing comes in song
after we have said goodnight
going with us to far destinations
till those stone walls are gone from sight.

To life, to love, to hope, to work;
till we gather again in His name
like the dew on the mountain of Zion
we leave here never the same.

Holy Father bless us now
with your protection of peace
like rivers of living water
our burdens to you release.

Fill us with your Holy Spirit
Protected by the shed blood.
Jesus, who died to raise us
White-washed clean in the flood.

On Retreat

The incense fills the church
as the spirit fills the chambers of my heart.
For a long time I have longed to sing
though my voice remains silent
and my tongue remains still.

For a long time I have desired to pray
though my mind remains devoid of holy words
and I am still waiting for them to come.

I had no idea the wounding was so great,
nor did I know what the bleeding took from me.
Now after all this time I remain empty --
seeking His presence in those dark places of my soul.

I have forgotten how to reach out.
I have forgotten how to drink from the Living Water.
In the distance the music calls me
but I have forgotten how to get there.

The incense fills the church.
The scent of it teasing my nostrils.
Long after all have gone, it remains
hovering by the altar, drifting upwards
to the rafters, and I watch the ascent,
carefully, silently, peacefully, hopefully;
sending with it the desires of my heart
so they will rise to the heart of God.

 

Celebrate the silence
for the purest symphony
is born of solitude.
God moves in the stillness,
whispering across the valleys
beyond intrusive day sounds
to the shelter where
the sun hides, until her dawning.

Rejoice in the solitude!
May it become the more precious gem
sparkled by the evidence of dewfall
and carried by the drifting of the fog
beyond where music lives,
sweetened not by note or measure
but by quiet breaths and hidden
dreams that have no language or words.

It is in the solitude
that grace lives, driven by the
silence to grab and secure
that untamed part of man
that has no real voice, or thought,
but shapes the inner being
in chambered portals far beyond
the glimpse of a mere human eye.

We cannot not always see what we know,
or know what we see,
and the message from the unseen
speaks louder than the silence
in waves, flowing to and ebbing out
beyond, the light of the waning moon.
That is where the secrets lie –
Forbidden, but carried in tightly wrapped packages.

Once, I knew a mystic
who had no definitions of the world
save one – God Alone!
All matter of creation begins and ends
in the same breath,
the breath of God blown
from heavenly portals, far removed
from dream, or life, or sunrise.
But it is in the sunrise
That returns us to joy!
When the heavy shroud of night
is rent from top – to bottom
by his own invisible hand.
And the light from his glory
Sends us singing upon the earth
to celebrate – the silence.