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Continue reading →: A Mote Point, Maybe. I missed the transit of Venus.
It was a dot which floated. It was the eye jaundiced. Maybe the beginning of degeneration. Macular senses dulled by a speck of space dust. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transit_of_Venus_(disambiguation)
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Continue reading →: Aurora Borealis: For Nathan
We stood in awe of the celestial apparition. We Pointed guiding words of wonder. The glowing curtain danced and skipped in the northern sky. It hung nervous in its translucent evening gown. The ghost furled in the folds of the wind. Together we strained to…
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Continue reading →: Spoken Light. The Sound of Vision.
From whence came this beam of light? Did the particles roll off the Tongue? Can sound give birth to brilliance? Genesis 1:3 John 8:12 John 1:1
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Continue reading →: Writers: Another Peculiar People of Which I Am One.
I am getting to know the writing sub-culture slowly. Slow is what I do. It is a good thing to ease into this people group. Now, writing critique group, don’t go and think I am pointing at you, although I might be. It is just that the more I read…
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Continue reading →: Redemption: The Hope for Transformation.
Abused freedom holds within in it the seed of redemption. Depravity holds within it the seed of redemption. Redemption’s necessity is only because things go awry, mostly humans go awry. I think it was in Ravi Zacharias’ book Why Jesus that one communist/atheist country is allowing Christianity in to quell…
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Continue reading →: Untitled Poem by George Chapman. Determination on a rough sea…lean into it.
Give me a spirit that on this life’s rough sea loves to have his sails filled with a lusty wind even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts crack, and his rapt ship runs on her side so low that she drinks water, and her keel ploughs air. George Chapman
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Continue reading →: Emily Woke Me. The moon and stars were still awake.
Emily woke me at 1:12. She walked the line from her bed to mine and I tucked her one more time. At 1:17 I saw the moon in the western sky a sweet potato pie. Once slice, low upon a rhyme. A dipper as big as forever over…
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Continue reading →: A NEW DAY. Sunday.
How many have written of a sunrise? The darkness peeled slowly like an orange. The thumb of God pushed up the dimmer switch. The light swept the horizon and overflowed its banks. Silhouettes shed layer after layer. Shadows stretched, yawned, and shrunk. It dawned on me. This day,…
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Continue reading →: Once and Again. Boundless.
One more book, one more song, one more walk in the spirit to see One who swallows me. The search continues for Someone I have already found. This quest of authenticity resurrects dead poets, theologians, and sages. “The heavens’ embroidered cloths” lie as dreams under Your feet.…
Gerald the Writer 