Come enter into this sanctuary
Come to the place of bended knee
Approach the inner courts humbly
You come before the God the Lord of Host
Before Him who loved us the most
Come into the most sacred place
Where we meet Jesus face to face
The sanctuary is a safe place, a haven
A place to go when you need savin'
In the shadow of the cross
Life is found in what once was lost
In the shelter of His wings
We find peace, hope, and holy things
Come enter into the secret hideaway
Where all your troubles just melt away
Take a few minutes of each day
To enter the sanctuary, to stay and pray

There is something about a garden
Something so real and so divine
A secret place, a silent sanctuary
It is a feeling difficult to define

There is something about a garden
That leads my heart to prayer
A place of safety to where I run
And where I find hope in despair

There is something about a garden
And being surrounded by creation
Singing songs of praise to God
The creator and author of salvation

There is something about a garden
That feels like mercy's ocean
And like a crashing wave upon the shore
I'm swept away with great devotion

There is something about a garden
That fills me with such great delight
Filled with awe and greatest wonder
On the wings of the dawn my soul takes flight

There is something about a garden
That I can almost see the hand of God
The foretaste of Heaven on the Earth
We walk where the angels have trod

As you reflect on a promise of tender hands; tiny
tremors shake your will to hold yourself together-
Tethering lines of kisses guiding your eyes to a moon
as you are a bright smile of the day, and the cool
whisper of hope late by noon

We’ve been lost in the yesterday of a garden filled with
flowers, that grow brighter as I look at their hues- I’m giving
my affection by an attention to pick at some petals: darling we
Both grew into something special; through a dream bending
my will to ever say no to you

Sometimes I get it wrong- especially when it comes to the
unspoken language of your eyes, daring deep inside my soul
when we’re alone to our own thoughts on this long drive home
My aim was a bit off, off into the places I think helps me better
into seeing your pain- but I can’t read your brain, measure any
of your griefs, or attest to being able to share all that you have
experienced

Still, I can offer my very dreams as an escape

everytime i look into you,
i see radiance shedding clarity
to these uncertainties,
slowly warming unsightly places
with your sincere presence
that deeply affects my soul.

your words resonate –
a serene impression
overcoming an anxious heart
and a war in my mind
that keeps me longing
for your familiar embrace,
my sanctuary and grace.

A little girl in handmade dress.
           Black shoes with  
White knee-high stockings.
                       Shy eyes framed
By and hiding behind
            Long  curly
            Blonde locks,
Waiting with me at
                   The bus stop
Each school morning.

Vulnerable  
             Protected from the harsh
Outside world.
               But nothing can completely
Shut out its
                             Cruel essence.

The outside
                       Can creep in or the
Inside holds dormant
                      Outside influence
Like the eggs of the proverbial tree
                      Lizard laid among  eggs in a
Bird's nest  
             Remaining dormant to eventually
Hatch to feed on the newly born fowl.

Faith soothes the pain
                     By daily standing
On the sidelines
                     Of the pantomime
Of the mundane

As lush dense
Ivy reaches
                         For the sky but must
First slowly crawl
                              Over a cold
Gray wall of stone  
                               Reaching
For dreams and ideals
                          Once clearly seen
On the horizon of the
                      Unobscured  plains
Of childhood.
                    A bit harder at the myopic
Foothills of youth.  
                       Now harder than ever

At the jagged  
                  Snowcapped mountains of
Adulthood.


The curly locked
                             Little girl still lives
After all these years.  
                             Lives on to
                         Balance the weight
Of disappointments
                    Compressed by daily
Reminders of that

Once dormant inside
                       Influence unleashed
In the innermost
                      Sanctity of trust. Lives

In the security
                        Of ideals gradually
Becoming reality.

                       That place in the heart
That no one can touch  
                             That no one can
Invade.

Thank God that home is where the heart is!

                     ¤¤¤

Do you want to smell the Flowers

Be in the moments of each day

Receive beauty life offers

And experience your own bouquet



Where do you draw in such fragrance

In a World of many concerns

Simply search your heart My Friend

Look beyond the twists of fern



As the hedge that surrounds Your Sanctuary

Grows a little out of control

Then prune it back carefully

Your Flower needs to be on show



To other beautiful Flowers

That bloom all around

Grateful for Inspiration

In fertile ground!



(c) Debra Lea Ryan, 1st Draft:19/11/06

Edit- 05/03/09 & 05/04/09

Nestled in his arms, I've found a quiet place,
A refuge for my weary soul to rest.
Within his gentle gaze, anxieties erased,
My racing mind is soothed, concerns addressed.
When self-doubt winds its tangled vines around,
And life's complexities leave me spent,
His strong embrace is the shelter I have found,
Where desolation’s grasp cannot extend.
Behind those eyes lies an eternal sea,
Of wisdom, truth, and purity so rare.
Each moment with him reveals more to me,
Of passion's tide we joyfully bear.
Through every twist of fate our lives have known,
Paths destined to meet, forever to have grown.

His love washes over me /
Pristinely /
Drenching me, deluging me /
In surging airborne streams /

A parcel of wind greets me /
& raises me to Him. /
In the Light of Dreams, of sweet reverie, /
There I find Him. /

Beside me he fulminates /
Making me adamantine, /
Diamonded /
Glistening resplendently. /

A place of concealment, a sanctuary, /
He drenches me in His Light, baptismal, /
Cascades me, /
In its torrential downpour. /

In stillness there is revelation, /
In stillness there is clarity, /
Though our hearts tremulous, may quake & tremble, /
He awakens us anew each morn. /

in this state ...
we follow the drum
dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum

it's a baseline from the numinous
rooted in the luminous
dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum

it's consciousness expanding
and selfishness unbounding
dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum

this thrombosis is cyclical
inspired spirals are psychical
dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum