From Daniel And Others

Our rulers weaponize alien thoughts,
Launching demonic mental thought-form bombs,
Nations slide seduced in cascading lots
Down tubes into seductive spiritual tombs,
Truth raises a shield of golden symbol,
stone fortresses of parable again,
As "hate speech" judges condemn the Bible,
Followers are called "blasphemers" and slain
Who yet overcome by blood of the Lamb,
Who yet love not their lives unto death,
They dwell in the vortex centre "I Am"
Forgiving all unto their final breath,
Or thread the rubble, nurturing and kind,
Abiding in Jesus, mission and mind.

To The Vortex Of Christmas

Jesus Lamb of God,
Jesus on whom the Spirit-like Dove descends,
Jesus in whose vortex
Every star and planet,
In whose vortex every galaxy spins,

Lamb,
Dove,
Holy mystery,
Terrifying beauty,
From the centre of all that is
You come with
Words of love
For every individual of humankind.

Made flesh,
A mist, a vapour,
A sacrifice,
Wings twinkling like bells
In the sunlight,

A lamb,
Bleeding on the altars
Of our rebellion,
You visit earth
By human child,
Evading just long enough
Our forceps and knives
To leave us words of salvation,

Sweet resonance of angel choirs,
 Reconcile by innovation
By love and forgiveness
Guilty man and Holy God.

Forgive us O Lord,
So bringing peace,
By your Mercy redeem us.

Light that sings
From the centre of the universe,
Our hearts shall be filled
With your song.

Like Christmas

Stone Of Stumbling,
Rock Of Offense,
You are the light
Every Christmas tree
celebrates.

Lightening Rod Of Wrath,
You are the Candle
that lit the candle
in my window.

Rose Of Sharon,
Jessie's Root,
O Promised One,
As before, soldiers
Look to abort your coming
This time in your people,

Word Made Flesh,
Greater your grace to us all
Than the guillotine.

Catacombs are ready
To be populated again

Pens are sharpened,
Ink mixed,  parchment unrolled,
Thankful records of your mercies
In flourish and flowers are recorded.

This is Christmas,
For those who have not forgotten,
String the lute,
Celebrate Jesus born Saviour
Of all who will to be saved.

Creator of the world,
You came to us,
You came in us,
Will come with a million candles
for us again!

If

If we live to please ourselves,
we end up pleasing no one,
including ourselves.

To Be Made Again

You made me, when mist
hung low on the mountains,
every microscopic droplet
you suspended,
encased every branch and twig,
every needle on every spruce
with crystal frost,

You made me on a night
when moon shone on sculpted
landscapes,
rounded every stone and craig
with shallow valleys
of drifted snow,

this was your promise
to the universe,
that you would shelter, shield,
and cover me to surely grow.

When I fell through the ice,
or lost your trail under
the northern lights,
or stormed from my warm cabin door
without a jacket to snowshoe
in the sweaty moonlight until I dropped
in self pity and despair,
you would be there.

I even heard your angels sing,
opened my eyes to find my table set
in the middle of wilderness
and I dead centre
in a ring of music and light.

The universe has watched,
you have kept your word,
you led me not into temptation,
you delivered me from evil,
but I searched it out,
I studied the stars,
forbidden books
in the library of constellations
of my own heart,
and found it anyway,
the Lost City,
faded myself there where only you
could find me, my tracks
erased with freezing rain,

yet still on a silent night like this,
a star of hope shines
over Bethlehem,
and I know I am found,

you will make me again.

As Long Ago In Parchments Foretold

Come, let us be civil.

The universe blazes
With flaring fliers  busy at task,

Winding symbols down,
Parables and paraphrases,

The project is over,
They served us well,

But nothing can mask
The flickering unfinished,
Not fully formed
In you and me.

Soon we will stumble
Beckoned to Bethlehem,
To the stable of prophesy,
To the child, the man,
The risen king,  another prophesy
Of his return,
 The pondering.

Prophesy

Confluence bleeds
blue electric flame
till soul and spirit
breathe the same

from harvest cutting
Sharons long stemmed rose

to midnight shining
Southern Cross

street lamps line the path
His kingdom came.

Weeds whisper
as they toss
intimations
to the wind

and rattle
dry seed pods
as if promises
from pagan gods.

I heard them rustling sigh

"Our weakest are the first
to die
first to rise again"

in floral descant to what
the dusty weed-straw
chorus said:

"Valley-lily somewhere by
is Balm in Gilead

there is a Balm
in Gilead."

Advent

Longing is a wind-blown feather,
wafted softly,
landed when disappearing
distant sails of your ship,
gulls white wings winking,
setting sun reflecting,
vanished into sea-sky folding,

Now all creation groaning,
the kingdom yearning,
throne of thrones,
empty till your returning.

How quietly first you came
to Bethlehem stable,
quietly, a candle
set the world ablaze.

Quietly by miracle amaze,
furiously craze the synagogue
police
who crucified you to their gnashing
teeth scream spittle,
wielding for God’s law implacable
His jot and His tittle.

Spoiled death and decay
by resurrection,

now you’re gone,

so much undone,

Longing, landing like a feather,
breaks the world,
lifted when I glimpse
interim, here and there,
your likeness
in your adopted children.

Quietly to Bethlehem you came,
but trumpeted with shouts of men and angels
riding clouds of glory
you said the spectacle shall be
when you return.

And who shall stand?
my longing love,
who shall presume to stand?