A Poem: Time Passing – Spring

A poem by Alison Moore in London:

stream-tallHow to capture a day like this?
The iridescent light
And small vibrations all around
The trilling sounds of joy
Announce the start of spring
Then dart away rejoicing wing on wing.

How do you stay in a day like this?
Keep still perhaps?
When all around the sharp cool breeze
Comes first to kiss
Then like a nervous lover,
Disappears again.

And colours – keen and bright
The little flowers pushing up in
Vibrant green
A beauteous fight
To come with colour
Coming to be seen.

I do not need a camera
And a computer cannot do it
My soul’s a better film
Or hardware drive
For life to paint it’s picture on
And faith to press it’s truth on mine.
forest-tallIt’s captured in my mind forever
More complete, more whole, more perfect.
Not just a fleeting image passed around
Or someones else’s stuck in time.

Better than a switched on plugged in pixel picture
Or iPod – sounds or beats cannot impress me
Past the sound of life.
A beating wing
A tumbling leaf
A shout of joy!
Or exultation of delight
A kind hello – how are you?
Truly meant
Means more to me
Than any multi – media event.

Come dance the dance of life says our creator
Live in now. It’s all we’ve got.
To try to capture life’s a waste of time – you cannot do it.
It’s passing by – what’s passed is gone.
Come now, join in, live now. Here’s how to do it.

The Father’s Love – spoken word & mime

“I hold a shield of condemnation and a sword of betrayal.
I travel on the train of trust that has finally been derailed.
I know the pain of loss as if it were my very veil and I accept my lot to never succeed but always fail.
This is my creed the motive of my being.
I never set my roots, I’m in constant fleeing cause I’m constantly seeing the destruction I cause.
A force to be reckoned with and yet I reckon it comes from deep within, some dark place drenched with sin.
I attempt to wrench the thing out and yet I start to understand what it’s about as it whispers sweet nothings in my ear.
Year after year I listen to this fear, this comforting security that’s appeared seems to drag my soul to depths unknown whether sitting on the bus or in an empty bath, fully clothed at home.

Alone.

With only my thoughts and voices bringing forth all my wrong choices, my mistakes.
If only I could forsake my past and take up a new path I would see this farce before it got too far but no, I do not.
I cannot relinquish this cold deathly kiss of the dark, inconsolable abyss, this clenched fist around my heart, this dark, dart of despair that has become my comfort and the defining feature in my conceptual lair.
A fair beauty in my eyes but others behold deception and lies.

Is it true that I’m blind?
Blinded by my own misery and shame, made lame by this self made rod of pain.
Why do I punish my inner being for being in or for seeing the truth?
For not being aloof but for making me see that my comfort is false.

For it’s the Holy Spirit in me that keeps my head focused, He exhibits the love needed to vanquish the locusts that have bred and multiplied leading me to believe my life is too defiled for God to accept any offering, other than sing and maybe dance.
And so I run from God.

But running from God just enhances the disasters plaguing my life.
I could choose to wallow in strife or run to God and receive love and life.

So I run to my Father, God, when I’ve had enough of my lies and selfishness, when I accept my mess is too big for me and I stop trying to dig myself free.
You see, that is how my disasters become dissolved.
Now I must resolve my heart to stay on things true, like love, joy and hope, even through the depression and self-hate I find the ability to demonstrate the elated spirit that comes from running to God.
Not forced but over-flowing, fully knowing God is there holding onto me.

He cares more than I dare to believe and it humbles me, how time and again He can be such a faithful Father and Friend.
When I lose sight He tells me “everything’s gonna be alright, every thing’s gonna be okay” cause that’s His way.
Day after day after day He is the Unchangeable, the Unmistakable Creator of Love, not sitting in the heavens above staring down but through His Son walks with us on this very ground.
Love abounds whenever He is near but don’t fear cause He’s always near when we’re here.
His Love is in us.
No matter our circumstance or situation He’s patiently waiting for us to realise He wants to show us His Love.
I have found nothing more accepting, nothing more directing, nothing more perforating than the Father’s Love.

And for that I am glad.

Thankfully (a poem)

“It’s so good to know God doesn’t need your help.
It’s even better to know that He still wants it!”

God’s dreams are not my dreams
Thankfully
God’s ways are not my ways
Or so I pray
‘Cos God sees beneath the leaf I have yet to turn
He already knows never-ending lessons I’ve yet to learn
His arms are wider, His love is greater than I will ever reach.
He’s eternity. Me? I’m twenty-three.
God does not need me.
Silly me,
To believe,
To think that I could achieve,
To conceive I would somehow fulfil His needs
By being me.
He is He, and I am not I AM.

Obviously.
And neither are thee.
Luckily.

And yet, you see, here’s a mystery.

Three in one, one in three.
Unity, sufficiency.
Became ugly,
Pathetic bare baby boy, bawling brazenly.
One cell, two, grew and grew into
Like you and me, humanity.
Eternity encased in flesh,
Strength and weakness enmeshed,
Power made perfect in weakness.
The weak to shame the strong, the list goes on.
No place to lay his head, the poor apparently blesséd!
Dirty, smelly.
Meekness.
How odd, not the way I’d do it at all.
But thankfully,
God’s dreams are not my dreams
No, God’s ways are not my ways.

God does not need me.
But,
Oh, rhapsody!
Maybe there’s a place for you and me,
Not the me I try to be,
But the me I am.
So bask in His all-sufficiency!

Thankfully,
I AM became just like I am
And for that
I am
Thankful.