Often we assume we have understood the fullness of God’s profundity
When in fact, only a smidgen of His glory is what we see
Although the full glory of God is something we cannot fully comprehend,
Through His word, little by little He helps us to understand

The glory of the Lord is revealed through His inexhaustible provision,
This can be seen from how He constantly provided for Israel from its inception
God lovingly provides us with many things to meet our physical needs
But beyond that, He gives His word to meet the spiritual needs of those who seek

The glory of God is revealed through His power and protection,
An example is how He went before the Israelites and gave them direction
His glory is also revealed through His promises and His presence,
If only we would use our senses to see and listen with reverence  

God provides us with senses to catch glimpses of His immeasurable glory,
From sight to hearing He helps us to behold His glory personally
The gift of senses is to be used to recognise God beyond the external appearances,
For only when our spiritual senses are awakened can we sense His presence

Our challenge is to recognise the presence of God and His glory,
To constantly seek and serve the Lord with humility
Let us be encouraged to sing, declare and proclaim the glory of the Lord,
And strive to be faithful believers and servants of God!

Inspiration: Exodus 14:19-20, Exodus 19:16-18, Ezekiel 1:28, Psalm 27:8, 1 Chronicles 16:10-29

Twisting of beauty should not deform the idea, the beauty itself.
Why oh why do clouds of black, rain down on the subject of shame and pain?
Why can’t the weapon be materialized?
Why can’t the lies be realized?

Beauty is the best source of pain.
Take a thing high in glory,
Pure and pleasing,
Disturb the foundation,
And watch it fall.
The height lets it into the darkest hole.

Why is this so?
Why must what is made most magnificent,
Suffer from a subtle switch of substratum,
To break and bend hearts so badly beaten,
Until it becomes easier to drown in poison then,
To take a breath of oxygen?

I remember walking home,
and to myself, at night,
saying:
"Glory glory, hallelujah."
It's new, these fits of religious excitement.
These nights...
one day, they will be the death of me, but
I can't be bothered to worry.
Because today,
I'm young, alive and invincible.
Perhaps I'll pay for this,
but I'm banking on dying first.

“If you do not write or film”,
the director wonders,
”am I alive?”

“What limbo am I in
when the shooting stops?
When my camera no longer
holds the beautiful prism.”

His films stay the same,
only he changes,
exchanging the silver screen
for glistening tin foil
heated under with a match.

When his pain matches
the others, he prays.
When greater, he’s an atheist.

The films are his only company.
He lives with them and for them,
remembering the cinema of his youth
filled with the scents of ****
and jasmine and summer breezes;

remembering the cave
where he learned
to read the light,
understand its alphabet,
and eventually, vocabulary
with each discovered ray.

He smiles as the music track
of little angels being taught
by the local parish priest
to match his voice note
by note flickers in.

She rises above with the sun
By the cross laid upon her breast
Where darkness did once reside
In shadowy webs of her soul
Petals now dance in heart
Playing warmly upon the beat
Wherein her spirit lies
Whole, in the prisms of light

Drops of rain that rain upon me leave prisms of light through the void of nothing that I feel while sleeping in the gentle nature of night I allude to others that I hold my own hue.  As I take back the sun and the dark beats to day and opens the glories that blush with the rays that reflect the smile of the newfound morn as she rises to kiss the sky.