Dreams were born and dreams diminished
Under the idle tree.
Stories were shared and legends were told
Just between you and me.
Time passed by as we sat still
Wondering where we’d be.
Lives were imagined but never lived
Under the idle tree.
Victims of the attacks in Norway, my heart and prayers go out to you. What an awful and horrendous thing to go through. My only hope is that you would turn to God, the only one who can bring peace to this world. He is hope and He is love.
“Save us from our ways, o God, for we have turned away from you. Lord, have mercy. We will run to you, we will run to you. Turning from our sin, we return to you. Father heal your world, make all things new, make all things new. Bring us back to you, bring us back to you, bring us back to you.” – Gungor’s “We Will Run”
“How deep is the soul?” once asked the sea,
For not even the ocean knew its depth.
What, then, must the waters think of me,
That I am borne of greater breadth?
I once pondered the ocean profound,
I marveled the azure’s expanse.
On vastness my astonishment formerly ground,
But now, inwardly, I glance.
The depths of my soul I surely know not,
And, thus, I search a response.
Was it imagined, crafted, spoken, or bought?
Perhaps, it was all those at once.
“How deep is the soul?” still asks the sea.
“One day,” I say, “one day, we’ll see.”
Light emanated from behind the hill
as if to give one final hoorah before
his descent, though he didn’t hesitate until
the moment he could be seen no more.
There he stalled, not to boast in his self, but
in others, like the emerald hills and cyan sky
who didn’t fade into the light but rather jutted
out, dominating the light as he just sat by.
This light yielded to that which he lit up,
thereby making himself little and inferior to those
who depended on him to be seen; a loving cup,
as some might call he who, for others, glory forgoes.
To look at light in such an odd light brings wonder;
such a brilliant design of humility could not have been blunder.
Shallow are the souls that assign beauty,
Beautiful is the soul that loves the shallow.
Tragic are the lives that overlook joy,
Joyful is the life that overcomes tragedy.
Vacant are the minds that ignore hope,
Hopeful is the mind that replenishes the vacant.
Vain are the bodies that diminish purity,
Pure is the body that refuses vanity.
Stained are the hearts that suppress mercy,
Merciful is the heart that washes the stained.
Undeserving are the ones that crucify the holy.
Holy is the one that redeems the undeserving.
Darkness recedes as light pushes through,
Yielding to colorful swirls;
Vibrant greens blend with wonderful blues;
Born is a marvelous world.
Chasm and chaos succumb to the sound
Of the lovely songbird tune;
Melodious howls are likewise found
Serenading the moon.
The grandest oaks dip toward the fount,
Enjoying water so pure,
Then bending upward back to their mount
To accent the endless azure.
Oranges and yellows intertwine with pinks;
Life was never so fruitful,
But now as defeated blackness sinks,
Life grows ever beautiful.
The trickle of the brook that feeds the sea
Quiets the quickened heart,
Slowing a thump to a beat that will be
As sweet as the lime is tart.
Joy is abounding and life overflows,
Granting new breath on a whim;
The freedom to flourish blooms and grows
And oceans fill to their brim.
Forever the luscious and matchless design
Will replenish those that savor;
Eternal is this garden that brilliantly shines,
Just as its perfect creator.