His thought, His Words, His Life, His All,
Lifting us gently from core
with invisible chords
to guide ,
Our thoughts, Words,  Deeds,
intentions go up,
each beauty witnessed,
He fills us
with alchemical gold
our cup.
Good thoughts, Good Words, Good intentions,
Good deeds ,
goes without saying disbelief suspended,
silencing the two thieves either side,  doubt and fear, who appear when He is here
ignore their divisive whispers in your ear,
tell them 'their is no evil in God'
He steps in, with you uncovering a treasure house
a golden rose
previoulsy unknown,
Realising what is this Golden throne,
Each action has purpose,
wisdom imbued energy,
built, in a lifetime of steps,
polished with love, forgiveness, truth,
When he plugs into that socket,
thundering wind, vibrating sound,
fountain of liquid gold astounds,
no longer flesh, or bones,
a sensation better than when two human bodies meet
reality more cosmic than fiction,
rising rapid through my golden crown,
fast forward through time and space,
rocket of love. soars to highest place,
hover in stillness in front of Heavens face.
My Dad speaks soft, His voice so quiet,
showing each thought an act of creation,
volcano, waterfall, leaf, star,  forest of trees,
birds, aligators, bees
there is nothing He did not create,
I look in my art box, for any materials that can create what
He creates,
I cannot compare, even in drawings I fail,
my words I feel too inadequate to express
your Omipotent Immense Genius Creator best
  
humbled by His presence ,head bending down,
realised  in the inner arm of a triple armed spiral,
back of my head stuck to a star,
Christalised
maybe because I don't even try to believe close to that level

that they did that to a child
with a hedge blocked off
the exit
cold dark now
calling, until tiny gave up
a fox showed  the way through
those impossible high, impossibly thick hedges?
to fall asleep in the arms of
Old Mother and Old Father
who covered her with their big coats
they were like good Presidents
when she asked where they came from
they showed her the golden highway
she had never seen before
how did it reach like so into the sky?
they told her  how she was a child of Israel
cold and hungry
they gave her manna
tasted like bread and honey
so sweet it made her sleep
there the gardener found her
blue with the cold, shivering and feverish
he revived her among the cinders
in blankets he lovingly tended her
with warm milk
the doctor came
the baron called
he stroked his pointed beard
while they talked gravely
send her home
she never saw that gardener again
Old Mother and Old Father sent him
thanks

He is never home Christmas Eve,
It’s always been that way,
Childless,
She’s home alone with cookies freshly made,
She’ll wait and watch  the weather,
But usually will nod off,
He’ll wake her with a kiss,
“Merry Christmas, Mrs Claus”
BLCostello©2022

Before the day demands it -

And the world tries to steal it -

And for my children I honor it -

        ….I give it to myself first.

what if you are not
the only one
waiting
for
love?

what if your
soulmate
has been
destined
with the
same
wait?

will you consider
the possibility
of this
what if?

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                                                 Not Exactly Saint Mark

“Who do you say that I am?”

‘“Whom,’” replied the local schoolmaster.