Salvation Belongs to the Lord

Salvation Belongs to the Lord

My wild eyes looked into His,

I’ve lost the key to my soul.

The gentleness of that smile.


Cannot say.

But he did not need to speak.

It was as if His whole being spoke.

It was as if the words came through

The open door of His soul.

You did not lose the key.

I’ve had it 

All along. 




Love’s Beauty

Love’s Beauty

I saw a couple walking down a path.

Arm in arm, white hair, slow steps.

By themselves, you would have thought

Him bent, her wrinkled.

But when she leaned on him, arm through his,

He was strong.

And she,

She was more than beautiful

When he looked at her.


And when I looked again, it almost seemed

They chose to walk so slowly down that path

That they might dream each other’s fading dreams

And breathe each other’s breath awhile yet.


They knew how to hold each other up.

Better than anyone. Better than themselves.

Alone, they could not have been strong enough;

Love gave them what they could not give themselves.


Perhaps when they were younger it was not so.

They had walked faster then I think, and not so close.

Sometimes it’s easier, when you’re strong, to walk alone;

But love is stronger still when it’s needed most.


There was no passion of wild love about them now.

Only a depth of knowing, an unconscious care;

And when she looked up and smiled at him,

Her eyes were full of the lifetime they had shared.


Yet if you were to ask them what love is,

They might no longer have the words upon their lips;

But watch the way in which they walk, and live,

And know love by the beauty that it gives.


They each reflected the other’s luminescence

Till no space was left between their souls;

And laying aside love’s trappings, they found its essence

In the wholeness that two broken halves can hold.






Little Things

Little Things

Give me a pen, a paper, a warm mug of my favorite tea.

“It’s just a little thing,”

You’ll say.

I beg to disagree.

Step into these shoes for a moment, please,

And see what I see:

No degree

Of big or small.

I don’t see size in these moments at all,

Each one a drop

In the waterfall,

A single note.

But what I see in these moments most

Is their rhythmic growth,

A crescendo

Of petals unfolding.

Come now, moments, you had almost fooled me.

You would have told me

To look

For your life changers;

But now I see. Every moment changes me.

There is no in-between,

No value measure.

So I’ll dare to seek,

Dare even to believe, that every moment holds a treasure;

I’ll live and breath

Outside these

Inward fetters.

Don’t stereotype the moments as worse or better;

Perhaps you’ll find,

Like me,

That in a pen, a paper,

A warm mug of your favorite tea: there lies

The most beautiful things.

If only

You choose to see.