A forsaken smile crawls forward as she greets her past,
Rushing with euphoria and glee - his call beacons her,
Uplifting and fulfilling does he compliment her every day,
A mistaken encounter solidified as she prays.

I think on what is true and just and honourable
I think on what is pure and lovely and admirable
I consider what is excellent and what is praiseworthy
and I praise our God who is unmistakably
the creator of all of these and more -  

I think on what is true
I think of God’s voice, his true promise,
his true plumbline, directing the eye down
to the centre, a reliable reference,
an alignment to righteousness.
I see the weight, suspended
and I wait as it finds the true vertical axis
pointing to the centre of gravity
as if that was its true purpose all along
- not to gravitate us down, but to re-direct us
to a true line upon which we can centre ourselves.

I think on what is true.

I think on what is honourable, noble.
I think of honour lists and of inherited nobility,
I think of integrity, living up to the responsibility
of my privilege and authority
and of using it responsibly, with generosity,
recognising opportunities to live
nobly, dependably
ethically, reliably,
faithful to the One who entrusted me
with so much extraordinary bounty.

I think on what is honourable.

I think on what is just and right
I think about the courage to live fully in the light,
to stand up for what we know to be the right
to admit to ourselves when we don’t get it right
to give heart-felt apology, to find a way to re-unite,

to fight injustice alongside those who can’t
to go the extra mile when our heads say don’t.
Not doing what they’d do to you
if the tables were turned,
but doing what you’d have them do
if the circumstances were reversed

and when the right of it still isn’t clear
to wait and figure it out, take the longer route
rather than the obvious, shorter cut
and if, even then, you can’t be sure
err on the side of the generous cut
because we know that the Cross wasn’t fair
but it was right and it was just just.

I think on what is right.

I think on what is pure
I think about the sudden clarity of a cold mountain stream
bubbling up from its spring,
running through and digging down irrespective of obstacles
flowing over all rocky hurdles
with pure, unadulterated intent
to get at last to the sea
where its creator intended it to be.

I think on what is pure.

I think on what is lovely
I think of the surface-beauty that catches my eye
but then of the beauty that only shows itself in the depths
- in patience, in the willingness
to put ill-feeling to rest
and to embrace forgiveness
and thereby release a smile that meets
that generous high-beauty in full gratefulness.

I think on what is lovely.

I think on what is admirable, commendable
and of good reputation, and I think how
how God views me is more important
than the admiration offered by others.
I think that what is commendable
is in the eye of the beholder
and that my beholder sees the heart
and so I entrust my reputation to the One who sees better.

I think on what is admirable.

I think on what is excellent
and I think past Bill and Ted to something
of diamond quality,
of designed symmetry,
of clarity, of weight

or perhaps of a line in a poem or a song,
something that takes away my breath.
- But then I see the sun through trees,
shining on breakfasting friends
and on my laughter

and I think that this is truly God’s most excellent.

I think on what is praiseworthy
I think of the ovation given to a practiced orchestra
and pitch perfect soloists
and then I think
of a five-year-old niece
mastering her first recorder
and getting to that tricky last line of
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
and I think, for our God,
this effort, this success is by far
most praiseworthy.

We think on what is true and just and honourable
we think on what is pure and lovely and admirable
we consider what is excellent and what is praiseworthy
and we praise our God who is unmistakably
the creator of all of these and more -  

and I think that perhaps we too
are a little lovely and that we too
are partially admirable
and I think perhaps we too
are not a little praiseworthy

and so when I think on these things,
I think on you,
on us,
and I praise our God all the more.

Think on these things.

i see you sitting there
a few feet from where i'm sleeping
the wind caressing your hair
your right hand's busy scribbling.
the weather all bright and good
birds chirping from the distant wood
i just lay here in bed unmoving
memorizing the moment unfolding.
tho you might have noticed me looking
'cos you turn to me smiling
brightening up the room more than ever
i just want it to last forever.
then you walk up to me with grace
eyes holding on to my gaze
you snuggled and hold me close
our bodies molding like petals’ rose.
and when i feel you smiling in my neck
that makes me all ticklish and weak
it is also making me braver
i hope you'll always remember.

Old songs are like
A prayer; no matter the length
Of time.
No matter how long or short.
They dance.
They dance regardless of who's
Around & accept your invitation
Without you knowing.
Just when you forget.
They tap you on the shoulder &
Give you something to smile about.
Old songs are like a dancehall that scream
In silence and fill the empty with hope.
Regardless of how you felt before.
Old songs are like the remedy to the old
Person in your head who finally feels the urge
to dance again