The Random Joy

at the most random times it occurs to me how transcendently happy i am,
how this life, everything, is like a --
an intriguing mystical funny dangerous tale

i wake up and see it
so much bigger and stimulating than any story we concoct in our heads and put on a screen
it's such a long and winding and insane road
with bridges and spirals
and the treasure that is found and lost
over and over
and over
and i am happy to be here
stuck in this lovely and terrifying loop
always searching, searching
for the way out
just beyond the next disappointment
the joy
always finds a way back in to rescue me
at the last moment
don't understand it
not sure i want to
oh i really do want to find the way out
i do
but i don't always remember why
joy remembers for me
and reminds me
just often enough
to keep me going

Dusty Road

Walking down a dusty road
Beside the everyday people,
You saw their despair and reached out your hand.
They followed you for a while, and you healed their diseases --
Walking down a dusty road,
A dusty road.

When you spoke of a better way,
The way of Truth,
They turned away from you and left, empty-handed.
You stood there holding life in your hand,
And they went walking down a dusty road
With what they could not let go.

Just a phantom of you was all that they could do,
And the phantom went walking down the corridors of Time.
He never looks the same,
But they always claim to know him –
Walking down a dusty road.

You stood there
At the intersection with a street of gold,
But they went walking down a dusty road,
A dusty road.

from "Jesus Songs" collection

Persephone

All the treasures I touched have turned to dust.
Weights drag me back toward the drowning pool with every step.
A heavy mystery works against me.

This place has no meaning, no feeling of home or belonging.
A stranger looks back at me from a mirror before glancing to the side.

Did I stop somewhere along the way as my life went on without me?
I feel the weights.
I feel the weights.

Circles of hell I've always walked.
I see this now.
When I thought I was stepping out of one, I stepped into a smaller, tighter one.
One day I will reach that Center where no movement can be made, and there is no smaller thing for me to become.
Where my life and my death meet, there can be nothing left to find--
except my salvation.

I go to this center, to this lowest region of Hades.
I accept this as the quest set to me:
To journey through the deserts of corruption and emptiness while dreams of Paradise plague me until I reach some final Hell of Enlightenment.

Once I resisted this darkness as a shroud of annihilation.
Now I will wear this shroud as the robe of my calling.
I will look into this blankness as my mirror,
walk into this Cold Embrace, rest my weary forehead on her shoulder
as her smooth cool hand takes mine.
She leads me.
Now I will see
What she will show me.

Lighthouse (Look to Me)

Oh ship searching for harbor
in a dark and stormy sea--
Look to me,
Look to me.
My foundation firm in rock and soil,
connecting each new stone secure,
along the spiral to the stars i rise--
all to shine the light,
all to shine the light.

The beam slices through the darkness.
The harbor waits.
Your heart is reaching out
to the lighthouse.

Hear the crashing waves
from the safety of the shore
as the gulls swoop and gather.
There is a path here to walk
and homes along the way,
new lives to be birthed into the world.
You journey through the desert, over mountains,
wilderness and perilous, shining cities
until you stand beside me once again.

Your heart rises to your eyes.
Salty water spills onto
the beautiful broken empty shells.
Deep colors above us brighten into gold
and the molten giant rises from a vast liquid horizon.

A ship waits.
Gulls cry.

I stand here between the land and sea,
rising to the living sky,
all songs singing through me,
reaching out to the longing in you.

You know me as refuge, as friend,
always leaving me to find me anew.
Your heart goes wherever you go,
abiding in your eyes,
gazing now at sea, now land, now sky.

Not Quite Yet

I went down to the shop of horrors.
Crazy mirrors showed me everything.
Spent all my tickets on reflections -
Nothing scarier than what I saw that day.

Gathering all these poor Mis-Shapens,
I stuffed them into a grocery bag.
Tangled whispers pleading, muttering -
I take them so they cannot follow.

Along the way more mirrors leered.
I wonder how much more can fit.
I cannot leave this lot behind,
Nor can I bring myself to look.

Clouds are gathering in my chest,
Whirlpools circle round my gut.
So heavy, so hard to keep this ol bag closed.
I'm almost ready for the Storm -

- But not quite yet . . .