All Now to Gain

Our world spins, revolving round the sun, as we keep moving, believing,

Grieving much of what we have left behind, weaving hope into the future,

Never deceiving now, receiving truth unadorned, naked, wisely perceiving,

And we’ll not back down, throw away life’s crown, play the part of a clown,

For we’ve been nurtured at God’s breast, furthered in maturity, encouraged,

Flown high to heaven’s perch, thrown low to hell’s gorge, to live full life,

And not without strife, yet no longer rife with pain, all for us now to gain

And On the Eighth Day

We ride the tidal wave of hope toward the coastline of inspired vision;
It is our destiny in proportion to our dreams spun in the halls of heaven.
Our eyes are wide open to the myriad possibilities of grand, living life,
As we grab hold of the mystical hand to walk now on the water of miracles.
No evil wraith taunts our minds, nothing wicked haunts our open hearts,
For we have taken the higher way — rough and rugged and narrow but true.
Blue skies become our ocean with slowly floating, wispy white islands,
Burning Sol our guide by day, serenely sweet Luna shepherdess by night…

Tell me, pilgrim, do you know to where we journey on this the eighth day?

Moros and the Everlasting Spirit of Hope

They shout for history; I calmly reply, ‘Mystery.’
‘Superstition!’ they yell. ‘No, mystic suspension.’
‘Science, only science!’ Only reliance on ignorance.
‘Crude! Lewd!” they accuse. ‘No, sharp and shrewd.’

Minor_Greek_God_Erebus[1]Listen. Moros has haunted me from birth, taunted me with mirth denied;
Moros, son of Erebus and Nyx, picks his victims for gloom and doom,
And ne’er has darker god been born, torn from the bowels of the blight
Of night, and his great weapon is repression by way of heavy depression
In succession of days that sway his victims ere closer to concession
Of breath of life so wrought with draining-pain, driving them insane…
There is one who fights such blight; nemesis of Moros: Selfless Elpis.

She is the song God sends to be sung in the long hour of dour assault
By Moros who would suppose you to be weak and ripe for the picking,
Licking his lips in unhallowed anticipation of the steal of soul meal;
But then comes Elpis, no worse the curse than he himself is to you;
And has not God given her such powerful voice to sing in radiant joy,
To bring bright hope, light laughter to slaughter repressive, depressive
Attacks with brutal cracks of Morosian whip? And does brave Elpis slip?

‘You can’t put it under microscope!’ they persist to insist.
‘And you have no love, charity, and give no scope to hope.’
‘Reckless! Dangerous!’ they charge as they lurch and scourge.
‘No, denial is your burial, and your world is dying for lying.’

Moros returns again and again, and plagues me with vague visions
Of derision, division, constant indecision; no worth for my birth;
And my body curls in the corner as he hurls his spears so drear;
In fetal position I condition myself for next wave of violation,
But she comes once again to undermine the swine with fine beauty
And heavenly wine freely poured, ere for him love’s eternal brine.
Elpis smiles overpowering the towering god of hate, ne’er to satiate.

Elpis2Morning comes with mourning sometimes, forewarning another scorning
Of Moros; Ah! but there is hope now with hope, with selfless Elpis
So sweet and upbeat; her weapons are not sharpened blades, charades
Of fear, or crusades of crude war. No! But cheer, glorious happiness,
Almost ravenous gladness, and always hope — tope of ambrosia —
To cope with dæmonic mobsters and bleak monsters that loudly shriek
Inside my head, mostly in bed, when for the day all is done and said.

And why not feel happy, rather than crappy and snappy? And with flow
of heavenly grace freely poured from vase of cosmic Spirit to stay toxic
Run of rancid thoughts and feelings pealing away all good and healthy —
Moros is stealthy — why snub cup freely offered with fine red wine
That will scrub away dross, wash out poison, silence noisome voices
Of accusation, degradation, and desolation? When Elpis sings and brings
Across the way cross of renewal to drive and stay on mount of your heart?

Monism, dualism, trialism and pluralism — all ‘isms’ for schisms,
But big brains heading for mental train wreck see only the seeable;
Philosophers so arrogant with apparent knowledge have blade in hand
Ready to aid Moros in killing willing students so numb and so dumb.

Moros they don’t see — he hides in shade of the blade — they bleed
Instead their delicatessen of putrid lessons, all to disarm and harm
Young and innocent with dissonant lectures and conjectures so proudly
Given by professors who’ve bowed to idols of straw with tooth and claw.

But do we have to bend the knee
To hiss and piss of such degree?
I chose selfless Elpis and spree
Of joy and more than trope of hope.


Note: Image of Moros from; image of Elpis from

What Do I Want For You, My Children?

Every father ought to have wishes for his children, so what wishes do I wish for you and what prayers do I pray? What do I want for you for life, my own flesh and blood, both invaluable blessings from God?

I want for you to see the infinite beauty of creation, from the stars shining brilliantly in the night sky to the tiniest of insects moving across delicate flowers opening to new life in the Spring of Life; from snow-topped mountains of grandeur to water brooks quietly meandering over rocks worn smooth over the ages of time in an otherwise fleeting world.

I want for you to smile at the sunrise, bathed in light, and feel the presence of God, and simply say, “thank you;” to whisper secrets to Luna and hear her answer in the pale moonlight in the promise of another day, unending and everlasting; to laugh in the rain, soaked in love, and dance in the moment.

I want for you to listen to the mystery of the universe and sweet murmurings of nature as the Lord of Life opens his Book of Wisdom; to be grateful guests in an enchanted Paradise that still resounds with echoes of Eden; to breathe the intoxicating aroma of hills and woodlands dressed in myriad dazzling colors.

I want for you lie down and sleep in tranquility, awake refreshed, free from fear, and live the day in gratitude with purpose; to feel the Presence of the Divine in every heartbeat and hear the tender call of the Spirit softly spoken in the soul; to pray in trembling love to Love, the Lover Everlasting and ever-present, though hidden from your eyes.

I want for you to be brave in the storms and the darkness of the whirlwind, when all around you is terror … peace; to remember the love of family and faithfulness of friends, the moments of goodness gone by and the undying hope for the best yet to come through the Best who died and rose again to give us Hope.

I want for you to walk hand in hand with the One who never tires nor sleeps, and worship in trust and adoration; to kneel at his feet and kiss in perfect surrender and pure joy; to see his face in the faces of all and to treat each and every one of them with reverence and the royal dignity that is their birthright.

I want for you to have open hands and giving hearts in genuine compassion, meekness and humility, living in pure simplicity and the freedom bequeathed by him who came to set us free; laying up for yourselves treasures in heaven, never clinging to that which you cannot keep, never holding tightly what has no lasting value.

I want for you the cup of salvation and the bread of life, holy guardian angels round about you and the prayers of saints before the throne of God; your path made clear and strength for the journey, through every sigh of every sorrow as well as in health and happiness, through night and day, every step along the way.

And in the end, I want for you to look back upon your sojourn here and say, “All in all, it was good, very good. Thank you.” And then to turn your eyes toward heaven and say as you have heard your father say so many times, “And now, O Lord, into your hands … into your hands…”