Fewer masks these days -
August, and the sky is clear.
Western rivers still run cold.
Rain falls at last upon dry lands.
In spite of hoppers, grass and wheat
Replenish the living.
Sleek cattle slow their grazing.

So, why this weariness?
Why the onsetting brood?
From whence the cloud, ennui?
This cynic stirs in search of hope.

I have become a ten-toed dabbler
Meanderer intentional sampling delights
Finder of mundane pleasures
Thankful for sound and sight, taste and touch,
Overcome by the newness of scents

I intend to be the finder of earthly heaven,
A barefoot walker of beaches
Collector of shells, sunsets, sensations
The crust of salt and sand and shells
Between my happy toes.

Relief settles slowly upon me
Covid come and gone, come and gone
Taste and smell returned
Lungs strong and pulling, pushing air,
Awareness of the preciousness of living.

I stop for the pleasure of roses, of rain, of radishes.
Thank Heaven for a taste of juniper, mint, basil,
Cantaloupe, berries of all kinds....
Covid gone, I am here to stay, if only for today.

I'm out, about, and on my way.

We wondered first when Mary's boy
Asked elders many questions,
Ran to the temple, full of joy,
And pointed us to Heaven.
Rumors spread at wedding time.
Guests there said the water turned to wine.
A blind man suddenly regained his sight.
We longed to know. Could this be right?

Loaves and fish, five and two,
Enough to feed a little boy
Filled thousands as they grew.
What power did the Lord employ?

Demons fled unwilling hosts.
Broken lives were healed.
Humans raised, no longer ghosts,
Miracles the Son revealed.
Hearing brought He to the deaf.
The lame could walk again,
Loved ones rose from stinking death.
God showed His power to men.

Disciples claimed He walked
Upon the waters deep,
Calmed the storms with talk,
A brief rebuff and back to sleep.
And still, men's hearts were cold.
A traitor rose among His ranks.
For 30 silver pieces, Jesus sold,
The devil's price, so little thanks....

Ten thousand angels at His call,
He didn't say a word,
Chose the path to save us all,
And "It is done!" was heard.
When we looked on, we looked away,
But then we thunder heard.
Bold lightning lit our darkening way,
Quaking tremors shook the earth,
And when the temple curtain tore,
The mountains shook and heavens roared,
And we all stopped. "He is the Lord!"

We sinners saw the Barrier riven,
The way to Heaven clearly made,
Through His death the path was given.
Our sins upon his death were laid.

Now sing we of His resurrection,
Though in the grave He lay
The third day raised Himself for Heaven.
King Jesus is the Only Way.

Father in Heaven, Giver of breath,
I am tainted by my prideful lust,
Wearied as I run toward death.
Kneeling knowing "dust to dust."
Were I to beg you slay the wicked,
My death I'd call for you to give.
Lord, hear the cry of one so wretched,
Tortured now, who begs to live.
Despite my wretchedness, I know
Surrender as I see your Image pressed.
Make whole this desperate soul,
Lift me to live in holy rest.

Amen

Scripture seems to be clear about the permanence
Of hell's torment, yet we finite human beings insist upon
Superimposing our imaginative emendations
Upon Scriptural descriptions.

Why do we do this?
Perhaps our love for those we suspect
Have gone to eternal damnation,
Or the fear that we ourselves may not
Make it to eternal bliss
Motivates us to create
Heavens and Hells,
Multiverses.

I believe that I am finite,
That I am created,
That my planning and conniving are incapable
Of changing the Eternal plans.
I have no power to create alternate realities;
No temporal holds upon supernal.