A finished work of art beckons us to no course of action. Rather, it teaches us how to be.–Frank Webb

From Creation

The True Light’s illumination
shines brightly on creation
from creation.
To see,
we have only to open our eyes.

The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.

-John 1:9

Radiance Resurrected

I watch the sun ascend
once again illuminating
creation’s vast expanse.
Night’s black shroud
slowly stripped away
revealing a coat of many colors.
Beauty hidden, but not forgotten.

The True Light
shrouded in death
descended into darkness
but I watch the Son ascend
shedding death’s dark cloak.
Radiance resurrected.

Night comes
but never without
the promise of morning.

In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

-John 1:4-5

The art of the poet is to bring presence into our lives.–Daniel Siegel

Easter Poem

Upon the cross
my Savor died
bearing all my sin,
He gave his life
that I might live
I am born again.

His battered form
taken down
was buried in the tomb,
the life of Christ
freely given
led to Satan’s doom.

Three days hence
he rose again
defeating sin and death,
now joined with him
I’ll never die
filled with the Spirit’s breath.

One day soon
he’ll come again
righting every wrong,
and bring us home
to live with him
and join in heaven’s song.

Intermingled

As I walk alone
frozen crystals sting my cheeks
mingling with hot tears.
Ashamed, I ponder my sin.
How often have I responded with
denial like Peter?
fear like Mark?
betrayal like Judas?

I look up and see the cross
where Christ hung alone
his Father’s cold shoulder
mingled with hot blood
spilled from his hands, his brow, his side.

My sin
Christ’s love
intermingled at Calvary.
His willing sacrifice
poured out for me
so that by his death
I might live.

At First Light

From Soil of the Divine.

Birds at first light
tune their voices
offering melodious praise,
not one holding back.

They loudly welcome the dawn,
in awe of God’s handiwork.

“‘Tis just instinct,”
you say,
“Preprogrammed
animal behavior.
Nothing more.”

But perhaps
they do not suppress
their instinct to worship
in the same way
that so many people do.

The meadows clothe themselves with flocks,
The valleys deck themselves with grain,
They shout and sing together for joy.
-Psalm 65:13

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