Allure, Apollo, Beauty, BnV, BooknVolume, Breath, Caress, creative writing, Desire, Gaze, Heart, Heavens, Imposing Visage, Light, Longing, Love, Nature, Night, Ocean, passion, photography, Poem, poetry, Purpose, relationships, Romance, Sigh, Soul Mates, splendor, Stars, Storm, Tempests, time, Touch, ~Morgan~
Sweetest Gaze that ever Graced Fair Cerulean,
If Tempests would in Broader Might be stirred,
Such Might should Sweep and Lash this Fragile shore;
Yet, under the Allure of that Imposing Visage,
Which makes my Every Breath to Sigh and
My Beating Heart to Shiver,
The Mighty storm of that Fair Gaze,
Like Beauty far too Great to be Perceived,
Gives each Moment and each Breath,
Lingering here in a Ransomed, petty Hour,
Diligence and Purpose to Withstand
That bitter misery of Shallow Time
Until our Twain Gazes Meet.
Then, Beneath the Brazen Fire of that Gilded Sky,
Where Apollo in Calamitous Vestige Holds Sway,
Shall Light seem feeble and Golden Fire,
Which else should set the sill of Earth Aflame,
Appear Meager, impoverished sparks by Honest Comparison.
Thus, as Day Beguiles Night
And Night the Day,
As Stars in Heaven Trace their Courses,
And those Courses Lure Each Star;
As the waves of the Vast Ocean Caress the Shore,
And the Shore, beneath such Sensuous Touch does Sigh,
I stand in the Pitch of darkest night,
Awaiting the Bright Spectacle of His Gaze,
That Sweet Cerulean which broods in Tempests
And does, in Potent Splendor,
Hold my every Breath
Beautiful Photograph found at: .radionowhere.org.uk
Abundance, Blessing, BnV, BooknVolume, creative writing, Diligence, Empowerment, Harmony, Hope, Inspiration, Joy, Kindness, life, Love, Nature, Patience, Peace, Poem, poetry, Purpose, relationships, spirituality, Thankfulness, ~Morgan~
A Thankful Heart is Open to Blessings
because it is closed to worry, doubt, and wailing.
A Thankful Heart is Filled with Love
because it empties itself of loathing, greed, and envy.
A Thankful Heart is Overflowing with Peace
because it does not Share itself with lies, distrust, and negativity.
A Thankful Heart Touches Others with its Blessings and Love
because it is Ever in the Presence of Love and Blessing.
A Thankful Heart Speaks in Kindness, Patience and Empowerment
because it does not Speak of hate, intolerance or to incapacitate.
A Thankful Heart Chooses its Path Each Day with Diligence and Joy
because it does not Concentrate on what it cannot do.
A Thankful Heart Walks in Hope, Love, Peace and Joy
because it Knows nothing else.
A Thankful Heart Shares its Purpose
because it is Incapable of Withholding All that Pours from its Abundant Profusion.
Embark upon Each New Day with a Thankful Heart, for Therein Lives Salvation.
Beautiful Image found at: plattform.com
BnV, BooknVolume, Breathe, Calm, Centering the Spirit, creative writing, eternity, Faith, God, Harmony, Inspiration, Meditation, Patience, Peace, Poem, poetry, Prayer, Purpose, Quiet, Quiet Moment, spirituality, Tranquility, Yoga, ~Morgan~
Beautiful Original Artwork by: Mariska at Redbubble.com
Look neither to the right or left,
Search not high and low,
Seeking All Your Heart Desires,
Forgetting All Your Spirit Knows.
See the Calm Arising Sweet
From subtle Mercies Amidst the Storm,
Hear the Lilting Music Singing,
The Hymns of Eternal Praise that form.
Watch the Master Artist Work,
Creating Purpose from the Loam,
Let your Wanderings Cease and Settle,
Your Way is Made, Leading you Home.
Beautiful Photograph found at: i1.trekearth.com
Beauty, BnV, BooknVolume, creative writing, Diligence, Faith, future, Guidance, Hope, Inspiration, life, Light, Morning, Nature, photography, Poem, poetry, Purpose, Quiet, spirituality, Stillness, The Path, Trust, ~Morgan~
Blade of Morning
Standing in my Waking hour,
Guide my Path with Your Truest Light,
Fill my Moments with Purpose that Purifies,
Point to the Future Built entirely for me,
And Inspire my Hope
That in this Quiet Stillness,
Where Your Solemnity Glimmers,
My Diligence Shall be Set,
My Trust Emblazoned by Your Might,
So I May Embark Upon the Daytide,
Shot Straight and True
As Your Blade of Morning.
Beautiful Photograph found at: earth-ism.tumblr.com
Encompass All my Thoughts in twists of Heaven
And Rain upon this Life with Blessings Pure,
For As Blessings from Your Grace, through my hand, Leaven,
From this Foundation Pouring, Endless and Sure.
Though mortal Sight can conjure Art and wit contrive,
This Purpose to Fulfill my weakened state,
As with my weakness, through Your Blessings, Strive
To Touch the Heart of anguish, guilt or hate.
For by this Mercy Pouring from Your Gentle Hand,
Through this poor vessel, cracked and desperate frayed,
When such can Share such Wealth to Comprehend,
Nothing is lost when losing might Find those strayed.
Thus Stand upon these Words and Beauty Spilling,
Your Blessing to Display, this Vessel Ever Filling.
Beautiful Original artwork by: danchristopher
Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I dreamed of writing. Writing for whoever might hear, whoever might care, or, for myself and the sheer enjoyment, nay, the absolute bliss of filling a page with words spilling from my mind like a torrent. (a torrent of what, we shall not debate!) Words have always been there, at the forefront of my every thought, waking or sleeping, dreaming or working. How many times I’ve been caught narrating what I’m doing by a quizzical onlooker I dare not admit (usually a family member, thank goodness, but not always). It’s rather like an obsession I cannot escape or break free of, and like an obsession, I do not care to break free, really.
I distinctly remember sitting in my fifth grade classroom, creating stories in my mind and scribbling them down for all I was worth rather than going out for recess (even when a rousing game of 4 square or kickball beckoned). How could I explain to other ten year olds that I would much rather immerse myself in the mystical places my imagination could take me, would take me, than run around in the dirt or swing from the playground monkey bars (which I never could reach anyway, being so diminutively statured).
OK, maybe that is just proof that I’m a little left of center. (You might enthusiastically agree) The dilithium crystals aren’t reaching full efficiency, Captain. I’m one clue short of a revelation, Sherlock. OR it may indicate that I was destined to unravel the complexities of life and love in lyrical, narrative fashion; who can tell (although more than likely it’s a bit of both, really). One thing is clear, though; I shall never escape the compelling temptation that is writing. I’m addicted, mind, body, soul.
Good thing, though, since it would seem this compulsion is my one true gift. (Yes, I do believe we all have at least one, some of us have more than one, though proving how quickly a bottle of Absolute can be absolutely obliterated or diving from train trusses with a spongy rope attached to the feet are not illustrations of a gift by any means) Where was I?
Good thing, yes, because I have found that once you allow yourself to become completely wound up in your True Gift the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment you achieve supersedes anything else, everything else. Of course, the trick is figuring out what your One True Gift is, which isn’t as simple as it seems. I should have known I was a writer, since words have been tumbling from my mind and spirit since I was old enough to speak. I spent a summer composing a collection of 100 poems, just as a challenge to myself and I’ve been writing one thing or another since I could hold a pencil (or crayon) (or lipstick). So why did it take me this long to sit down and take it seriously and to finally realize the ultimate joy in utilizing that one talent given to me alone (so to speak, since it was certainly given to you as well or we wouldn’t be here, but do humour me, as I’m making a point here) (I think/hope).
We walk along the path of life, meandering through the shaggy undergrowth and stopping often to investigate the curious or spectacular. We stumble over debris scattered in the avenue, sometimes we fall, tumble, roll and when we struggle to our feet the right way to go isn’t always clear. We point ourselves in a direction and trudge on. Often, we need to double back, realizing that we’ve chosen the wrong direction. The going can be difficult, uphill, over large stones and through loose gravel that slips underfoot; yet the light is always shining down on us, streaming through the lush canopy of green swaying in the wind over our heads. Nevertheless, we ultimately come to a place where we can go no farther unaided and we must make a deliberate choice. Turn around and stumble back the way we came, making no further progress and never reaching our goal(s) or reach for the walking stick waiting at our feet; accept the hand that is offered to help us continue on; allow ourselves to be carried through the brambles so we don’t fall or bleed anymore.
This isn’t a cop out, however. Nor is it taking the easy way out or cheating. In fact, it’s just the beginning. The start of a whole new journey; another path to walk along, another avenue to sojourn, though not alone, and when we walk this road, aided by the Light that is within us we will discover our Purpose. A purpose that will fill us (oddly enough) with Purpose. A destiny that will lead us to our Destiny; and a gift, One True Gift, that will give us the greatest Gift of all.
Purpose and a Destiny.
Lovely Image found at: peterhiddema.com
Sing to my Heart with Your Love,
Ever so Fine,
in Spiritual Rhyme,
Lifting me from my habitual Treason
Of uncertainty and perpetual reason,
Where I founder myself on the rocky shore,
Ever questioning Purpose,
Deliberately seeking for more.
When, rather, my Spirit longs to Be Still
In the Peace of Your Virtue,
In the Tempestuous Thrill
Of Closing my eyes to the rush of the day;
To be Calm,
To be Quiet,
And Unhurriedly Pray.
Beautiful Image by Holly Kempe
A dear blogging friend (Ms Vee) mentioned to me in a comment recently that they knew I was well because my writing tells a beautiful story and I could not help pausing in amazement at this perceptive, not to mention surprising, prospect.
If you are anything like me (and if you are, I do offer my sincerest condolences!) you write what you are feeling; you write where your passions and/or emotions take you; you express through words (and perhaps images) what your opinions are, what you believe, who and what you love, and, perhaps, what makes your imagination swirl (like dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly?) Invariably and quite apparently, such honesty paints a vivid picture, lifts the veil, so to speak, and permits the reader to gaze through your writing into your very heart and soul. If you are like me (again, my deepest sympathies!) you also may have never quite paused to consider that what you are writing about also reveals your state of mind, heart, and soul.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. (Usually, anyway) If that is the case, what are a thousand words worth? Does it depend on the words? Are Shakespeare’s words worth more than, say, Dr Seuss’s or those fluttering around on blogs all round the world? Yipe, before I delve too deep, I guess it all depends on your perspective, yet, my original point ( lest I go astray, as you are all very well aware I can do so easily!) was and is simply this: What Does Your Writing Say About You?
Do your words tell a story that reveals anything about you? Or are they a charade, a farce, constructed to intentionally misconstrue? Are they a reflection of the light in your soul or the dark side of the force? (Use the Force, Luke!) Do they share any truth about you at all? And should you like them to?
For me, myself and I, (we hang about together a lot since I found myself) (ah, but that is, perhaps, another introspective post) since this thought hadn’t occurred to me, really, I find it rather remarkable, that someone halfway round the world (give or take) can read what I’m blathering on about (which, again, happens somewhat regularly ‘round here) and discover things about me that I had not, intentionally, intended to divulge. Intent being 2/3 of Purpose (Or is that Possession is 2/3 of the Law?) it might be food for thought the next time you pick up your pen, grab your laptop, sit down with your ipad, or wrap your fingers round a crayon, since this writing thing, apparently, reveals far more than you might realize.
Words, do, afterall, Speak Volumes (or Booknvolumes, depending.)
Beautiful Image found on Googleplus.com