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The coy moon left us fumbling
wandering in the sleepless warmth
transformed by night sweats
and wet despair
into fractious infants crying
for relief from the night fire.

Douse me now!
City heat ain't fun.
Still yourself, raise your eyes
and with all your waning strength
with all your weary mind
with every ounce
of your weighed down heart -
Lift up your soul. Lift up your song.

Place both feet on the Rock
in this most holy place,
where your God exults over you
with loud singing,
where burdens are lifted
by Christ's outstretched arms -
and LIFT your song.

And when your heart is heavy,
when your arms feel leaden -
take a breath, fix your eyes on him,
hear his song -
and LIFT with your legs.
Zeph 3.17
The Lord your God is in your midst,   a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.

Psalm 25:1
To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.

Psalm 68.4
Sing to God, sing praises to his name; lift up a song to him who rides through the deserts; his name is the Lord; exult before him.

Mark 12:30
And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’
Take your bible out.
Thaw at room temperature
with a bedside prayer.

By morning you'll find
every page will have seffused
ineffably.

The sacred have kept
their biblical pro-portions.
Savoir each mouthful.

All your 5 a day.
Commuting poetry
It didn't matter,
for he could smell the sea
and thought it just enough
to season the past,
the remembrance,
slowly curling
in the flames at his feet.
Do I need 'in the flames'?
Do I need 'at his feet'?
Suggestions please.
I stay present
but in reality, I am many
miles and many years
behind us. I am taller
and straighter, I have less pain
and fewer regrets.

I stay present
and take pleasure wherever
it is offered. I stand, and I pray.
I offer - no-that's-not-true -
I don't offer. I give freely
my praise. And it is given
with all honesty, truely.

I stay present
as He is present, but
just as He is timeless
so a part of me slips
into the past and leans
into the not-quite-yet.

I am present.
For now.
I'm reading a novel by John Connolly and came across the words:  "Although she remained a presence in the room; a part of her was now elsewhere. "
That sent me here.
Steve Page Jun 22
It was before dawn
and she was never seen again.

We had often wondered about her
and her wild impatience,
her passion for holding
life’s burdens and treasures equally lightly,
for dropping and gifting them
with devout fervor.

Nolle leapt out of a window
and left her bonds behind.
We woke to her whoop
and smiled at the echo of her song.

Nolle leapt out and we wondered -
what would it be like
to crave life that much?
[a mesh of story and memories]
Steve Page Jun 21
No, you could never call him
a babysitter, not as such.
He's more like an undercurrent -
Never obvious
But definitely dangerous
In a reassuring way.

He's good for the children.
An aspiration
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