Tuesday, November 22, 2011



If I were looking for God, every event and every moment would sow, in my will,
grains of His life, that would spring up one day in a tremendous harvest.

                                                                Thomas Merton Seeds of Contemplation 18

                                                                                                            Photo by C Scodova


The fog is shrouding the soft rattling,
rusts and the pale ruinous,
countless seeds sifting
through the bony fingers
of the fields.

The breezes are lifting
these orbs of possibilities,
these parched cradles
in our Lord's lullabies:

May the gale of God
germinate in the ground of our will,
our desire and dark diminishing,
to become filled with
His luminosity

and bear the opening.

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