Plato versus Aristotle not that I am
Much versed in either but in plainest
Terms Plato is the one who believed
In the primacy of the idea.  Aristotle
Said ideas cannot be known without
A material manifestation.  This debate
Relates to the Elysium of experience,that
Great Uplifting of  the spirit known as
The Rapture.  Is the ecstacy of knowing
That one was dead-crucified by trials and
Tribulations and now is reborn into the
All knowing, beautiful reality of  deathless
Love wherein the Kingdom of God is ours
Now and Forever.  Is this an idea or an ex-
Perience; both?  Which comes first and the
Other merely derivative an abstraction?  
The rapture is experience , a feeling above
All and the feeling is also a knowing.  But
In writing we can express idea that are only
Hypothetical and from our imagination we
May catch a wfiff of feeling of what it might
Be like to know them as truth but really are
little realized.  But to know the Rapture is not
To know the idea-an idea that may give us a
Direction like a map may give us an idea of how
To get to California but California itself is not
To be known from the map.  At best the idea
Is the hope of the unrisen dead waiting for the
Resurrection; like theologians without knowing
Of what they speak.  Yet the best writing refers
To something that is real if not now in times to
Come.  The substance of something not seen but
Hoped for yet sublimely and unimaginably better
So if I must I come down on the side of Aristotle.
Ideas of the Truth are not the Truth.  And all our
Intellectual scribe work is but a poor meal for
The hungry soul but that we be blessed with ears
That hear it.  Still in comparison to a happy child's
Laughter few scholars can reach farther and to the
Lost sheep that hears it knowing the Master draws
Near it is worth a king's Ransom to all who know
God is seeking His lost Sheep and none are lost. He
Too joins in the Rapture having nothing more to fear
In the velvet green hills of the Lord   Come Quickly!

In the shade rise the colors of all you love
And one by one everything is gone.  No
Not all but way too much the shade of
What was fading till the less  and less of
What once was but death you who were
From the beginning with me and who did
Paint with exquisite beauty all that I ever
Loved are now my last companion,faithful
To the end, a friend  to stand against all the
Loss.  If you leave me then I shall truly be
Alone
  It ii is a   light too great, a light without the
Night.  Blinding.  Oh death do not desert me.
I know I have raged against the dying of the
Light but now I know better.  Death did shade
My eves did make me see and love the other.  Oh
Death  must be born again for all I have Loved is
Naught if not for thee-that has been revealed  The
Last shall be the first. Hidden charity is its ensign.

Have Joy in Truth.
Praise Truth for it is Good.
But know this it makes no difference.
Truth is--already is now ; and always
Has been and always will be.  It is to
Our benefit to acknowledge it as the
Blessing of understanding indeed it
Our greatest joy-But also know that
Truth encompasses change.  In this
Too it is constant and everlasting...
Lives.  For each of us it is subjective-
In our objectivity we acknowledge
It and so for each of us it has an
Individuality, some shade of differ-
Ence.   Some yearn for yesterday,
Some put their hope in tomorrow's
Sun.  This too is good  It is morning
In the East and night in the West.
When the day is done in the East
It is still early in the West    The
Remnant survives to increase and
At our greatest increase we begin
To decline.  This is the Truth in all
Things great and small-of that in
Which their is opposition and that
In which there is harmony.  Thus
We may have wisdom and know
Justice and mercy; our own worth
Both in it greatness and its smallness
This too Truth and it too is good.

And it is is mine that I
Speak of:  Once upon
A time a great truth I
Knew  great and good-
Know still its true and its.
No lie I tell but was a time
Apart and is not the same
The truth  I know it is
Great and Glorious from
Afar but not so much with-
In where  it fulled my heart
And soul.  Now I know but
I know less now than before
When twas a Glory that can
Not be remembered as the
Old woman said speaking
Of the Fall in mountains of
Her Youth -tiz but once
We know and must forget.
But as the poet said of our
Youth long is its memory
For this yearning sin I ask
Your forgetfulness and mine
That I may love you as myself

It is insatiable the desire to know
Nothingness; to comprehend it;
Taste it, smell it but it defies all
Frantic effort, voracious appetite.
For it is nothing; has already given
It's everything and has nothing left
To give.  It inhabits all things it is
Their holiness; and to know this
Is to let it be.  Walk hand in hand
Feel its closeness without and with
In.  To know paradise is ours is a gift
For where nothing is we need not yet
Have all by grace been given  Ojala!

I could not get back He said
It was at the bus stop and he
was not dressed in red but I
Knew he was Santa even if he
Looked to be be a common
***.  He said he had given
All, every he had even his
Means to get back home, this
Last to some poor child who
Needed it-and he got stuck
Here and admitted he had
Taken to drink to keep up his
Spirits but that it did not work
Well for him he said with tears
In his eyes.  I gave him all my
Change and said God Bless and
He said the same to me- it was
Not much but it seemed to make
Him happy. As he boarded the bus
I told the girl at my side: That is
The real Santa Claus, but I do not
Think she believed me.  Seems kids
Grow up so fast these days, don't
Believe nothing they can't under-
Stand; and I can't say as I blame
Them.  What is a Santa without
Presents even if he has already
Given everything away.  Anyway
If you see him tell him I remember
Him and still miss him and I hope
He got home because its Christmas
Time again and there are some little
Ones who still believe in Him.

For   Charlie    Remembering  Santa Cruz
Wishing Everyone a Merry Christmas& a Happy New Year

I am not a leader and not a follower
All are like me none before or after
We all ypay our parts .I hear us in the
Afternoon of the day and on into the
Evening it is a most beautiful memory
We are not poor fools heard  but once
But we are children treasured forever
Always changing parts in that place
Where there is no real guru, swami to
Tell us how to be but all are at play in
The fields of the Lord; and when we
Weary of play we sleep in the Pastures
Of  heaven to wake again not knowing
Where we've been and who we really
Are.  But we are friends who love one
Another though there are no words nor
Is it part in our play but it all that matters
To  the o the One that knows our hearts
For God has said we are His children.

Even a mean dog suffers when beaten;
And as our fathers have said do not
Doubt child that this chastening hurts
Me.  I am pained with you yet I do it
Because you are worth it and to lose
You would be a much greater suffering
For each of us.   I say to you my friends
Take no joy in punishing your fellows
But that our valued brothers be restored
To us.  Justice without Love is a demon
Let loose.  And what of the victims of the
Mad dog.  Consider this:  If one repent of
Evil that evil wil be undone.  The Truth of
Love shall span all horizons as far as the
Eye can see and on  into the infinite.
Past; Present and Future are all restored.
Neither Truth nor Love shall be diminished;
The power of Love shall know no limit but
Passes beyond our full  understanding....
It is enough to be a child in the Kingdom
Of God why would would you seek  more?

Are they to us or from us?  Who can tell
We begin unknowing and end the same.
Is there really anything in between that does
Not equal One and the same-God has said I
Am that I am- supposing He was not being
Stingy but only telling us the simple Truth
That He (She) could not say more-indeed
Did not know more-in that is he not like us
Who do not know if we are being greeted or
Greeting the wonders of the unknowable.

The more the light of hope dims the closer the rebirth
Of the bright morning sun.....Greetings...

Out!  Out!  Out!  Have you not
Heard:  I  speak not as a partizan
Against evil; -not to remember but
To deny by not knowing to yield
To it nothing for its reason for being.
What God says no to can no more
Be on Earth than it is in Heaven-
When all else fails: Forget, Forget
The nightmare; Forget the evil
Dream; Forget death.  Live in the
Light; In the Peace that surpasses
Understanding in the Ocean of
Light not in the brief candle Dream
Again and again a better dream.

In our youth we seek to learn; to
Learn from our experience how to
Live ,  live longer, live happier and
With all that we learn we move step
By step closer to old age and our own
Mortality-then the only thing we seek
Is how we may restore our youth and
To do that we must learn to forget. As
One overloaded with survival gear who
Cannot flee he the lion unless he drop
His heavy load; all his hard won gain
To know with an innocent mind that
He will never die alone  is the antidote
That can restore the body to its spirit.
Oh Sweet bird of youth we never knew
You were our last and greatest treasure
Bird you never were but my soul alone
Where untutored still I freely believed
Soared in my heart to the truth of love

A man may do wrong and think
He is right; but in the crucible he
Learns otherwise.  He may do evil
Knowing he is evil but in the trying
Of the crucible he learns otherwise.
There is a truth beneath even the
ost grime ridden soul that none can
See that even wisdom knows not.
For we are players who are not what
We seem even to ourselves but in the
Crucible there is a way that may save
Even the most godless soul who never
Learned His Grace.  For none no not
One is good but all do play and it is
the child that catches the conscience
Of the King who understands what
We must learn that we are but poor
Players who are yet worth His love.

Years ago I was a graduate student at
Teachers College Columbia in NYC.
One afternoon in gray weather I was
Walking at the corner of  Morningside
Heights on the upper Westside near TC
And came across a bunch of boxes with
Trash put out for removal.  I stopped to
See what was in it.  I discovered several
Framed diplomas of old graduate degrees
My guess was that the owner was probably
An old resident maybe a retired faculty
Member who had passed away.  All the
Time, effort and distinction represented
What did it all amount to; to the people who
Cleaned out the old man's apartment?
For a moment I understood the truth of life
As Soloman said: All is vanity;  but poignant
Still to us who must live it believing in it.

In every thing seek the spirit of
Truth.  Have you said it cannot
Be found?  Clearly it is not there.
Breathe in; breathe out; Again-
Nothing?  Are you still Alive?
There is truth everywhere and
No where. Asking and knowing
Friend to friend: Do we not live?.

There is no such thing as Fairness
To the dying; no such thing as
Justice to Love.  To know the Truth
Is to live close to the end of of the
World that others call reality.

Of fools and wise men there is  this
The Ocean says: both go down, but
They are best with a pinch of salt.
For it makes liter that which can
Rise again but sinks the rock of
Pretentious certainty to the deep.

Flowers are his  poetry given as
His word-the promise that love
Is never dead but ever returns to
Us again; even as in sorrow we
Mourn and lay the flowers-our
Flowers down we know what is
Gone will  return again.  What
Comes from heaven speaks of
Love that though we grieve in
Knowing of our  little time it
Magnifies  our love of this time
That this beauty is not in vain
We know because we hear his
Words of promise in the flowers.

If we live in our dreams and hopes with
A strand of faith that someday all will
Be realized, while in our day to day
Life we feel we must pretend that such
Thoughts are are not who we truly are
Because that would estrange us from the
World of normalcy and convention, with
A price to pay.   Is it not reasonable, even
Yet to say desirable perhaps but always
Inevitable that one or the other of our-
Selves must needs die; and in the end it
Will not be a hard choice -to choose life
Knowing with God all things most real
That are for our salvation will be done.
Come He has said my burden is lite.
He who makes all things new knows:
In him who believes it is the old world
That is dying and a new world is  being
Born  and we nearer to God do rejoice

From left right and center there
Is a conspiracy of silence or is it
That silence is the way God tells
Us something big is wrong.  I do
not favor conspiracy theories-I
Believe that the truth is too big.
Too grand for scoundrels to win.
So why the silence, why are not
The people's spokesmen raising
A clamor?  Think of the those in
New England, the Abolitionists
Roaring against slavery till the
Great Liberator came forth and
led the country to a second birth.
Now again it is time for a rebirth
Of democracy-Why instead do
We go on worshiping Founding
Fathers as if their thoughts were
Blessed. A ****** Civil War left
Us witness that they were not
Infallible.  When George Bush
Was given the election ignoring
A loss of the popular vote we got
911 and the Iraque War. Now
We have Don Trump who lost
The popular vote by almost 3
Million votes and no one calls it
A disgrace to our democracy-I
Hear no one talking about a
Reform to a system that refuses
To acknowledge that at it's heart
There is something rotten' that
Makes a farce of our holy ideals,
Remember  the last time we did
Not listen to the people.  Now
We have a more flagrant abuse.
What will the punishment be?
Even recognizing that we are
Legally bound to our folly it is
Not an excuse for not making
A start. It took Lincoln 4 years.
We must begin the dismantling
Of the electoral college.  It is an
An anathema to the ideals of our
Country and shows the world
That we are hypocrites who would
Rather parade our ideals than live
Them-God Sees and His silence is
Ominous.  The Emperor has no
Clothes and no shame ...

Perhaps some thought I never cared
But my tears were always there. Cry!
Cry them out!  ...and I did.  Long ago.
Now they are mostly gone and with
Them most those I loved most. Gone
To Him who is everywhere but is never
Seen.  My love and tears he keeps them
There where they are still.  Keeps them
My memories green like a velvet moss
That grows in the heart where all that's
Dear on earth graces the halls of heaven.
When all our tears are shed we will all be
Together with those we have loved again.

{tale of the mouse famous long ago}

Little me said to big me: You may
Be Big but i am the One who first
Imagined you-you really are but a
Small part of me.  Big me grinned
Like a cheshire cat and said: You,
You imagined me!  Now that is a
Joke.  You aren" worth a purr back
A small bite and showed him his big
Teeth like a king looking at   a cat.
But I was not chagrined but said if
You will please step aside I can open
A tin of your favorite fish, what will it
Be tuna or
salmon what ever you say
He sniffed the air as if uncertain and
I not to be out done said say what you
Will I am your servant but the choice
Is mine to believe what I believe... and
You are my beloved cat,my Jezabel;
And low she purred for little me so the
End came to our meaningless dispute.

In a moment of Joy a thousand
Years of sorrow is forgotten.
Hope sustains but even if it die
Should that day come as sure as
Day follows night; leads with the
Light and morning come there is
No wait.  No time before with the
Lord who is always with you wakes
You and comes like One , even the
Son riding upon a donkey out of a
Rain bringing the sun and laughter

At the end of the road from
Where I look: it is not great
Writing just where I've been
That makes all the difference
I have been looking for you-
I want us to go on together in-
To the sunset; into the morning
Just us together again.  It is you
That i am looking for in the time
Before and in the time after-
You have to have a dream to ...
I know you know that is true.



For Barbara

Who rejects unwavering goodness;
Bares fang against his Benefactor?
T0 even those who reject Him He
Continues to show kindness. Will
Not the enemy be reborn to be in
Service to the One that served him
Even in his perversity that he might
Know that  is now, ever was ,and will
Be Love needing no coercion makes
All things new to sing His praise with
Gladness of heart and mind.  Let us
Not then be discouraged but continue
In the faith that the victory is ours by
The grace of Him who saves sinners;
Who by the power of Love raises the
Dead to life everlasting.  Lord  we will
Be with you in that day I know even
So Lord I say: Lord Come Quickly!

Peace is not as gaudy as a parrot
Not as baudy as a peacock...Not
As free as a happy child.  Not as
Beautiful as a rainbow in a clear
Blue sky.  Not as fierce as a storm
With the of flashes of lightening-
Booming bursts of thunder.  But
It is like Avalon seen through the
Mist and it is enough to wish for
For a long long time and when it
Is wished for it is always there.

Sometimes it's better to need to apologize
For an unjust ****** to wake up the sleep
Of anesthetized  conscience that is moves
Relentlessly towards doing grave hurt to
The public . That this strategy not  be too
Gratuitously deployed it must needs be
Paid for by a self wounding duly inflicted.

The longest  race is not won by
Those who want to win it but
By those who love to run it,by
Those who love to walk it and
Those who love to stand still.
How great then are those who
Love and do not look back but
To encourage all who seek Him
For I speak of the human race;
The glory of God and of man
Even unto life everlasting to all
Who come one by one to love
Seeking the Way that leads each
To the narrow door and passing
Thru he like one before and the
One to come  is the Savior Son,
Returning to his eternal home.

Between Zero and one there is a
Third rail.  There is one, a bit, but
To know One it must be other  to
The Knower than some other state.
But to truly know nothing is not to
Know that you do not know; to not
Be.  A land beyond space and time;
Beyond light and dark between One
And zero.  This is an imaginative idea.
Nothing of its actuality can actually be
Experienced.  From this state we   awake.
To begin our journey.  Of the primal
State we have no knowledge, can only
Imagine its memory but this imagined
Though logical is not identical with the
Reality and this we can know by the
Same logic.  In  the Trinity there   is a
Mystery at the heart our existence that
It may be the gift of God if we Let it Be.

In her youth I thought my daughter
Elizabeth was the most beautiful girl
I had ever seen.  Indeed she was and
I loved her more than words can tell.
She was born 9 months after my dad
Passed and her middle name Rae was
In his memory and I believed she had
His mortal soul left for her with all my
Love that I should not grieve more for
Him who had gone to a far better place.
So this is for Rae born on the 10th of the
Month of June in the year of our Lord
1966.  Liz be well and know that I still
Love you and always will when I think
Of that beautiful young girl given to
Me in remembrance of my father, Ray
A belated Happy Birthday greeting with
Love,David

My country is a place where the
Great are small and the small are
Great.  It is mostly what I gained
By experience  and a little of what
I learned about from afar.  In my
Land the greatest man is  my Dad
Dad and the most loved people are
Those I have personally known.  I
Forgive them first and last for never
Having been recognized as saints.
None to my knowledge has ever held
Political office.  I have never shaken a
"Great" man's hand.  I feel I am no less
For all the stars being faraway.  I would
Not have it any other way.  My country
Is not an abstract place.  It is a known-
Remembered place.  It does not ask me
To shed another's blood nor my own as
Proof that I am patriotic nor to obey the
President or a general who says he knows
What is right and I should do to be free.
I voluntarily give my love-not my blood
My country is a fresh green place that is
Full of Gods perfume from the flowered
Meadows where the river valleys meet a
Sunlit morning sea where I first met all
And the great stars never spoke  but to
Wish us all well because He is kind and
Most heavenly is this my Fatherland.  In
My country where he has hidden charity.



I  believe it was Abraham Lincoln who said: If God
Did not love the common man why did he make so
Many of them

...Are you nobody too?  Emily Dickenson


There are no common people-just people and
maybe some a little less just. but who am I to
Judge?
.

I have spoken of the Dreamer
As if we are one but though
This be true and I believe it is
He is also the many.  He is the
One and I am the one and the
Many are one-But I know this
As seen thru a glass darkly.
By my dreams sometimes I
Am aggrieved.  I have then
Only one remedy, one access
To the Dreamer I call it prayer
To offer up my pain, perplexity
Anxiety and need to Him who
Is able to give me better dreams
For myself and for everyone/

I am a sometimes sailor with many
Ports of call.  I am a dreamer and
I go where I go.  There  are only
Dreams on my itinerary- some
More vivid; some I like not at all
Some bright are not my type and
Some though dim are very rosey.

Between my voyages I know not
No thought and when I wake I
Have no idea where I've been or
If any time has passed.  I am dead.
Then I dream again waking from
The deepest sleep.  That's the way
It is.  Nothing lasts but the trip it-
Self.  I cannot count how many
Times I have died and rose again.
As the old woman said: You call
This living!  It is a sham.  To which
I reply a sham for you my darling
And most becoming.  She makes
No answer but I  I see the a twinkle
In her eye and that for me is good
Enough; Makes all the difference.

When alternate and mutually
Exclusive realities are constantly
Coincident in our mind it has the
Strange is it not  effect that the
This miracle comes to be seen as
Most normal and ordinary...

In the Mysterious Stranger Mark Twain
Said (paraphrase) Of the world he had
Seen the "dream marks" were apparent
To those ready to see them everywhere
Then he knew that that that the dream
Was his and he was the dreamer of it
Alone forever and that it would ever
Be up to him to dream better dreams.


It has been reported in a scientific
Journal that at Ypsilanti State, a
Mental hospital that there were
Two inmates that had identical
Delusions that they were Jesus
Christ.  So in the cause of science
Deciiide in much the same manner
As boy who throw the cat by the
Tail to see what will happen put
The two patients together in the
Same room.  They were waiting
To see if there would be a bang
And were surprised, disappointed
No doubt that nothing happened
Except that the men got along.
So at least at a mental hospital in
Michigan it seems possible for at
Least two crazy men to have the
Same dream neither claiming
Exclusive possession for himself/

Beauty is the timeless
Eternity called Love
Who is born again the
Angel or the sinner?
Why is history an aged
Crone?  Because it tells
Us to forget and we are
Always trying to keep
What it told us.   It is
Only for the ages and
The moment to be a
Singularity if God gives
Us to know that we are
His children always.

And that is why Boca
Raton is in Palm Beach;
And I can never get too
Big for my briches.

I Love You  Oh
Light in darkness
Beauty glimmers
Interior while all
About is shadow
Booming bursting
Hidden the girl I
Love.  This is but
The announcing
Fan fare of the child
Coming golden and
Pristine Promising
Out of Mourning
Stormy I love you
Promise of better
Days to come from
The loss in that city
By the Bay where
One must leave his
Heart to love again.

Our first love to the known being
Of the unknown Father that gives
Us the life that first perceives  light
Where I come to my being needy
Helpless with desires crying to be.
Be gratified hoping someone will
Hear that one is there for me, the
One we call Our Mother.  She is
Our first love that defines in its  
Origins and in its essence what
We mean by love, the deep and
Abiding Gratitude to that being
Kindness incarnate come to us in
Our need from the unknowable
Father of whom she is His word.

We   are the echoes of those Famous
Long ago.  We are the little people
But never little to ourselves.  Born
At the end of an age we were last but
First dying.  Dysfunctional.  The last
Breath to give voice mortal -crying for
Immortality.  Crying for immortality
Not for ourselves alone but for all of
The other little people who cried out
In elegy their meaning of being lost
Unheard were  still famous long ago.

I traveled through a wooded land
To a high suspension bridge that
Was only wide enough for one to
Pass.  the canyon at great depth
Above the river far below.  It was
almost freezingly cold.  I could
See a great range of misty peaks
Before me.  Then my feet seemed
No longer to completely touch the
Wood but as if being placed on a
Cushion of air compressed not
Completely down.  Then my
Aged companion said: It is the
Rising air that protect the child
Still in the womb.  Then I knew
The Truth, I should not take  the
Crown for it belonged to one not
Yet born but it was art to know.
And was for peace not for grief.

Let me tell you about God
Sure he is a lover of  Peace
Loves gentleness;  wants us
To be joyful in His abundant
Gifts, but make no mistake
When He breaks a man he
Breaks him and he can He
Saves only the good part.
The rest he   throws away
And it is likely the greater
Part of the  treacherous; the
Hypocrite and the  braggart
The  deceivers the lovers of
War and such like.  Sure
He is patient and slow to be
Wrathful but you would be
Wrong to think He is weak
Afraid to let you know who
Is boss in case of forgetting
He said: Vengeance is mine
And I know He meant it too.
So remember that the next
Time you meet some fellow
Wearing love beads or a girl
With Flowers in her hair.

I slander and belittled the Truth
Join the crowd that stones the
Saint uknown.  I do what I would
Not.  Love not when I would love.
I am not in control.  How can it be
That I am losing my soul.  Lord,
Make me good again as I know
That I am as I choose to be.
It is not the wrecklessness of this
False freedom that I seek; to be
The crazed actor who thinks it
Virtuosity to strut and fret hap-
Hazardly to every random cue.
But to be true .  Hear the noble
Call to yield to Heaven' Truth
That beckons me to all that is
Good, and True.  Oh God of
Mercy restore my soul I will
Obey.  Oh God of grace hear
My cry while yet I profane thee
Know that I am not proud but
Dying except thou Claim me.

There is a story about St. Theresa of
Avila t5hat on her death bed, in great
Anguish she spoke to the Lord saying:
Lord I have given up everything for
You.  All I have left is my faith; then
The Lord answered her saying: Sister
Give up our Faith.  Hard words but
The reward was so much greater and
More wondrous than the sacrifice it
Could not be known.  Even so it the
Same for everyone as for the saint.

for the poet it is his words.  For if
We would see God face to face is
Our dream we must sacrifice the
Dream to have the dream come
True.  in the end to give up our
Labor to experience the glories of
The harvest.  Give up the dream
To make it actual.  This is the all in
All where the destination does not
Lose the Way. The Hope of Love .
Love itself are one in the rapture.
The promises of Spring find their
Fulfillment of Summer.  With each
New season we must have given up
Ita memory.  As an old New England
Woman when asked if she did not get
Bored by the autumn having seen now
Near a hundred times?  Her answer:
It is a glory and cannot be remembered.
Yet as it is revealed it is also resonant.
We must have a dream to have a dream
Come true-So we must forget the dream
To have the dream be realized  God has
Said He Makes All things New.Have we
Carried a treasured burden give it up.
So I lay down these words that they
May be given u pas lost children that
Will be restored to me as in Heaven.

It seems to me I never loved any
Churches except at a distance.
And could say I have reasons.
Oh yes their bells and steeples;
The gospels and their songs
Are pleasing; and lot of my
Friends claim like me there
Was a time they went but
Now have mostly on their
Own.  Still sometimes I wish
I could have foumd one I
Loved for still in my heart
I do worship Thee.  When
The Saints come marching
In I don't suppose I will be
In that number.  If there is
No room for me I will lie in
Meadow glad enough to be
By myself and I will praise
You just the same-but glad
I would be for some of my
Childhood friends  and my
Old dog; and you of course
My first love to be in heaven.
And we will listen to the bells
And the singing of the hymns
In the distance and we will be
Glad to be off where we are.

Forgive us this we ask you
Acknowledging our errors
Those that we know and
Those we know not-but of
Those we do not yet know
Are we not also asking that
Your forgiveness come with
That wisdom that belongs
To love that we may not do
Keep doing  to one another
What is to their soul's harm.
So to we ask this for those
We would forgive that they
Must reckon and reckoning
That they like us be so ever
Guided by the one love that
Always embraces all of us.

not near not far not after
the axe falls, cracks the
Wood-like the memories
of Times gone bye-Of the
World Outside, An echo.
Of time without end....

Who are you talking to
Mr Einstein?  To the little
Child; to this old man?  
So much hocus pocus-
When all you had to say
was Shazamm.  That I
Could understand.  Yes
Everything is; and I am-
In the blink of an-eye- one
Word.  How could it be
That it is so  Yes even as
A little child I knew that.
That there is magic here

A pinch of heaven is enough  
To fuel a life and if life shouts:
Soon I shall be no more-then
I shall consign myself to the
Deathless dreams of youth
Saying if leave I must let me
Embark upon the ship of sleep
For I cannot say it is over but
That I endeavor to reach that
Farther shore  where lie the
Isles of eternal spring that once
Made glad my young heart...
That I yet might call them my
True home.  For when all that's
left:
proves itself mortal- what is not
Left was never left- shall be All
If fly we must to reach that Place-

On angel wings we shall

Fly like the seagull or frigate-

Bird.  We shall fly and  from

Earth


To sky  He shall show us ere we
Descend: Heaven.  For the small
Shall reign down, Can reign...

Heavenward ever goes the smoke
Even as our prayers.  Heaven must
Be a smokey place.  Even as earth
Knows its fogs and clouds.  It is
Only by their difference we know
The other.  Who has never known
That incomparable imperium if
Only by its loss would not know
To send a plea to God for its
Restoration.  Thru a veil of tears
Lord it seems that here I can
See your face.  In the vale thru
Sunlit mists here Love seems
To show us paradise, seems
To make us know that this is
The Beloved Promised Place.

In the demon land you are weak
Cannot  stand; are overcome yet
Rising above this evil cannot fol-
Low.  It is not that you are strong
That you overcome but that in
This other space the devil cannot
Reach you where you are now.
How can it be that here the evil
Fingers can no longer shape the
Pliable clay.  It is fated that man
Shall fall in love and so be less
And less till be God's hand he
Be kneaded  as near as nothing
Is to one and like helium is be
Rising even as the son.  For the
Maker lifts up His clay.  His sod
He brings to life with each day.
He has promised that the meek
Shall inherit the earth and all
Shall be on earth as in heaven
As little children.the falling
Stars shall grace this place
That love may rise and fall
We know not all but rise and
Fall in love.  It is enough...