Society is attempting to create
a world without God

Such a place already exists
It is called Hell

And I shudder to think
of what is being released
to fill the void


The Purpose of Cocoons


He doesn’t want legions of mindless robots
operating in binary code (to do His Will or not)
grey and flat
without vigor

So He doesn’t always make His hopes clear

We have to struggle
pierce the resistance to glimpse the Light
and then doubt if the experiences were actually real

We have to be crushed
yet keep pushing forward

With decades of prolonged agony
it can all seem quite cruel

But in the darkness
where we feel so much in our sightless states
our colours are becoming brighter
our rough edges are being smoothed and sharpened
our struggles with God’s dreams are co-creating
something never before imagined
something unrepeatable

we will emerge in our true forms
as butterflies
but not like any creatures we have seen on Earth
for we will be butterflies
decorated with diamonds

And when we fly skyward
toward our long-awaited homeland
we will reflect the Light
with our facets uniquely constructed
to amplify our colours
and from this point on
when we give and receive love
it will be without barriers or limitations


Aching for Living Stories of What Never Was

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where my belly has swelled with life
and the union between my lover and I
has entwined into physical forms
and breathed?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where the children who were never able to be conceived in this reality
are alive and well and dancing
as they endlessly strew their vibrant and pulsing colours
throughout my saturated days?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where these offspring are birthing versions of myself
that would be impossible for me to evolve into
while blockaded by my barren state?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where my choices
and the betrayals of my body
have not pronounced the final verdict
and where my lavish fruitfulness is unfolding
in the creation of persons
with countless future generations on the edge of greeting me
as we bleed across the threshold
into the realm of eternity?


the law and the prophets
converging as one
a culmination untarnished by severing
constructs with dreaming
form with transcendence
held in fulfillment

thorns piercing His head
the epicenter of reason and logic
a crown of thorns encircling His heart
the powerhouse of love and emotions
left hemisphere and right hemisphere
justice and mercy
pulsing in perfect synchronization
bleeding inexhaustibly

the unstained full range of humanity
the entirety of unfathomable godhood
all that was
all that is
and all that could be
alive and fusing
in the Person of Jesus

Appearances of Eden

long banished to the realm of myth
momentarily breaks forth
amidst chaos, distraction, and rejection
an intimate blending of Heaven and Earth
stars and angels
hay and animals
with the focal point being
a man and a woman
cradling a Child
breathing and aching
God and Human
with the sparkling in His eyes
holding the seeds of a future
where a new Eden
harmony between God and creation
angels, animals, plants and people
will powerfully take hold
and expand

Come Into Me

Come into me
come into that place
that doesn’t feel safe
into that place
that was never touched
by a father’s love or
his masculine protection
for my own father was
the thing to be feared
the thing to run from
even if the only means
of escape was via
my imagination

Come into me
come into that place
that still feels apprehensive
when it comes to food
for he forced it down my throat
a form of oral rape
cutting off my air
like dying
and then denied me
basic nourishment
when it was time to grow

Come into me
come into that place
still seething with shame
for he spoke no words
of my beauty
nor of my strength
but spewed unending descriptions
of how embarrassed he was
that people knew me as
his daughter

Come into me
come into that place
that desperately searches for Your eyes
but can only perceive
the disgust in his
come into that place
that yearns for Your acceptance
but cringes in dread
of Your bitter disappointment
come into that place
that is frantic for Your love
but can never seem to hold onto
Your ever-dissolving reflections
God, my Father, come into that place

John of the Beloved

St. John the Apostle has always been my favourite of the Twelve.  He had enough cockiness for Jesus to playfully nickname him ‘Son of Thunder’;  he was the only one of the disciples who had the sensitivity, tenderness, and courage to lay his head on Jesus’ Heart;  and, even though he wrote in prose, his writings have the feel of poetry.  Also, his main focus has been on love, and on how we are all the beloved of God.


Mending nets
with his father and his brother
the sea in his blood
and a sparkle in his eyes
transfixed by
dancing on the water
until a new Light
fills his vision
dimming the background
and what can he do
but follow

His nature
playful as waves
tender as a moonbeam
in the gravitational pull
of the Sun
revealing a rainstorm
of flashes and fury
earning him the title
Son of Thunder
and he could be that
could maintain the uproar
but the Master prefers
the deep ocean
of his soul

to the highest crest
he can almost
touch the sky
to his surprise
stark radiance
eclipsing the blue
with the Law
and the Prophets
into a single Person
the Source
and Summit
of all the questions
in the riptide
of his mind

but something is wrong
the air is stinging
with the salt of pain
the universe
has shifted
on its axis
to find his bearings
he rests his head
on the Heart of his Friend
fully knowing himself to be
the beloved of
the Beloved
floating on the currents
of His radiating affection

And darkness descended

One hour
such a finite
of time
if he could only remember
what he should be
pouring into it
lulled into amnesia
in the boat of sleep
and not even
the glow of the angel
can dissipate
the fog of confusion

spilling himself
in the sloshing turmoil
when a latent pulse
from the Heart-glow
across his soul
a single burst
of recollection
oh God
the Mother
the Mother should know
he must find her

Clasping her
in the circumference
of his arms
his strength
into the grey mist
of utter incomprehension
as his whole World
torn apart
and bleeding out
leaving him
in the outpouring
of the now silent Heart
and not even the Earth
can keep
from trembling

lungs burning
for he must see
yet courage falters
when facing the tomb
he dares not
descend into darkness
fearing it may assert
the final word
but all is safe
and transformed
though clouds remain

with his brothers
in the presence
of the Mother
for parched souls
when suddenly
a rush of sound
an explosion
of flame
blazes over them
courses through them
every teaching
in revelations
across the future

words streaming
as fluidic poetry
nets of allurement
crafting conduits
for rivers of Light
to flow into hearts
catching upwards
into the vision
that each one is
and invited to rest
in perfect
tender intimacy
on the Heart of the Beloved
eternally awash
in undying Love

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