sustenance

the child sat with eyes too wise,
knowing that within a week he would pass on,
yet in his suffering he thought of others in pain
seeking sustenance so that they could live,
saying to have a life at all is the greatest gift.

his death?
well it will come within week he said,
but the love I can give
is shared with those who respond
to my plea.

the eyes of Christ showed from his round face,
filled with compassion
and yes a deeply haloed grace.

I wonder,
I hope and pray,
that we will listen
to this child"s
loving plea,
to allow compassion to flower
and the love of the gift of life to spread,
leading to deeper life
for all.

When one suffers we all suffer,
love the only remedy
salted with compassion
soaked in empathy
spread thin so all can partake
of mercy freely given
and received.

Beyond all telling

The decades fly by with a swiftness incomprehensible,
yet moments can seem unendurable filled with nothingness,
dreamlike our desires and conquest,
soon becoming the distant past as if they never were,
fading memories yet kept alive in nostalgias make over,
broad strokes of pastels gentle colors,
or festering gashes of lurid paint,
causing deep explosions of enduring pain.

So each has their story in our trek through time,
our permanence an illusion sore to contemplate,
leading to either despair or joy,
such is the gift of truth,
for we dissipate soon like the mist before the sun,
fading into nothingness.

We are not objects nor are we made for anything,
our souls can only be satiated by that which does not exist,
we are sought by the unnecessary,
that which is no-thing seeks our returning embrace.

For in silence we hear the call,
our thirst drives us often into valleys of dryness and pain
yet the inner void calls us to loves union;
a consummation beyond all telling,
oneness shattering our petty dreams
drawing us into infinite freedom.