old tree

the truth in an old tree
gnarly and rooted deep
by waters still.
when shall I hear
healing words draw nigh
to shed upon your hopeful peering
eyes seeking to allay fears?
I wait, I wait to dry your tears.
maybe that is why
i listen on passing breezes –
it is best, I believe, as
God’s whisper shall enrich
and alight on my heart.
He shall on your’s too
and O, I shall try and impart
the truth within this old tree.

(c) 2014 Rick Stassi

credit: jkm for inspiration

“Darling Moon”

http://wp.me/p38bhq-eb

Advertisements

sanctuary

Moon-VVG
heat dissipates
warm nights recede to
coolness, stillness,
wisps of clouds
impede moonlight
in eerie veil.

breezes returning
to a cutting edge.
dew on grass
crystallizing as
the cog slows and
rotation finds respite
sadly moisture through
the veins of leaves
long has passed.

I sit and wonder
and ponder time –
cycles of seasons
over and over
sometimes barely hanging on
as unbearable is
introverted reasoning
mired in self-pity
gnawing at the core
of my being.

I cry for those
whose slippery grip
fails and thoughts
of failing overwhelm
and lies are hiding
the truth that succeeding
is in sanctuary
where in a second
the universe is
visible to the naked eye
because one takes the
time to sit with
God.

(c) 2014 Rick Stassi

Walk in Me

"Chemin montant" Alfred Sisley, 1870

“Chemin montant”
Alfred Sisley, 1870

“As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him” Colossians 2:6 KJV

Walk in Me
Over valleys of streams
And mossy lea ever soft
Receiving footsteps
Caressing weariness
Bidding confidence
Harboring pale sunlight
Though moor and fen-misted
Pleasant places where sweet
Melodies linger upon the breeze.

Walk in Me
Then onto crags
Of sharp stone
Cutting, tearing, reminding
That the path
To perfection is
Multifaceted and sometimes
We bleed and we cry
But we are to remember
That in our outlook
All is focused
Above temporal pain
And the pricks from thorns
Upon our heads
Are only to remind us we
Are in the Lamb’s gait
And not steps behind.

That is blessing enough.

(c) 2014 Rick Stassi

beautiful

Fritillaries by Van Gogh.jpg
Upon what thing beautiful shall my gaze alight? Something in a shallow place that is tempting and alluring? Where soon after a determined arrival, there is acute disappointment and an unsatisfied feeling of despair accompanied with an ugliness wrought from all things faded. I thought once the glimmer of the lonely moon which shone upon the path I walked to beautiful things was sufficient. In the end, I only found a light-hearted fool with a condescending laugh, making merriment at my poor expense. From what source does true beauty arise and please both the eye and the heart? Shallow is the dilemma of we who seek where vanity leads.

Yet as time’s very nature and true essence feeds my confidence: if one bad moment is endured, soon a good moment shall follow. I found this untrue. For following the shallow host I first approached, there was a steep slope of sand and eroded granite so fascinating from afar but in reality bearing characteristic of a rude and tawdry fellow. He begs rest from weary seekers. I fruitlessly with unforeseen gullibility climb to reach him only to slip farther away from his outreaching hand. Temptation wishes company yet always taunts – just a bit out of reach.

I seek beauty to fill emptiness and I wonder if I might look deep into smooth onyx and find my reflection. Alas not! For Self-absorption is narrow and egotistical one. I have seen the smirk of falsehood on the face of his invitation to self-gratification. Soon light turns to dark and beauty wrinkles and fades. Beauty is only skin deep, he lies.

Only if eyes seek beauty for the sake of self-satisfaction, I wonder…

Let my eyes fall upon the Lord. Return focus to Him. Gaze into His eyes for He always returns a welcoming light and a smiling heart. He shows me that beauty is not the shine of polished stone or the glimmer of the moonlight upon the still waters, but is the cry of your longing soul to meet with a compassionate spirit. It is seeing your vulnerable heart through a veil trying to conceal pain, but unable to, to the discerning eye. Beautiful is the soul that first shines and then urges the face to light up. The true beauty is a flame lit from the depths of the heart where only God has been to dust off things of old and reorganize things forgotten and unremembered. I have seen those things and cast the hurtful and malicious fragments of the past that attempt to carve me from the inside out, upon the shoulders of a willing Host.

The Spirit gives me eyes to see your truth and gives me motivation to ask if I should petition to God your needs over my own. How lovely your heart. I see you for what is inside where depth beyond shadows holds treasures of purity and unveiled light that is the beginning of time and the seed sown of God. Grow seed. Sprout and come to light and show life. Show that a torn veil reveals the inner room of your heart. Do not worry or fear, I am there and I will hold you forever.

(c) 2014 Rick Stassi

beautiful

Paul Cezanne

Paul Cezanne

But mine eyes are unto thee, O God the Lord: in thee is my trust; leave not my soul destitute.
Psalm 141:8

Upon what thing beautiful shall my gaze alight? Something in the shallow, alluring and beckoning, places welcomed by bidding hands to guide my path? Where soon after a joyous arrival there is acute disappointment and an unsatisfied feeling of despair and ugliness wrought from all things faded. I thought once the glimmer seen in the lonely moon in whose light was sufficient to shine upon a path I walked to beautiful joy only to find a light-hearted fool with a condescending laugh, making merriment at my poor expense. From what source does true beauty arise and please both the eye and the heart?

Yet as time’s very nature and true essence feeds my confidence that if one bad moment is endured, soon a good one shall follow. I found this untrue. For following the shallow host I first approached, next was a steep slope of sand and eroded granite so fascinating from afar but in reality the characteristic of a rude and tawdry fellow. He begs rest from weariness and I fruitlessly with unforeseen gullibility climb to reach him only to slip farther away from his outreaching hand  – wishing my company yet always a bit out of reach. I seek beauty to fill emptiness and I wonder if I might look deep into smooth onyx and find my reflection. Alas not for self-absorption is narrow, naive, and egotistic. I have seen the smirk of falsehood on the face of an invitation to self-gratification. Soon light turns to dark and beauty wrinkles, fades. Beauty is only skin deep, he lies. I know, only if eyes seek beauty for the sake of self-satisfaction.

Let my eyes fall upon the Lord. Turn to and return to Him. Gaze and gaze again for He always returns a welcome hand. He shows me that beauty is not the shine of polished stone or the glimmer of the moonlight upon the still waters, but is the cry of your longing soul met with compassion. It is seeing your vulnerable heart through a veil trying to conceal pain, but unable to, to the discerning eye. Beautiful is the soul that first shines and then urges the face to light up. The seemingly attractive surface is really a flame lit from the depths of the heart where only God has been to dust off things of old and reorganize things forgotten and unremembered. I have seen those things and cast those hurtful and malicious fragments of the past that attempt to carve me from the inside out, upon the shoulders of my unweary and willing Host.

The Spirit gives me eyes to see your truth and gives me motivation to ask if I should petition to God your needs over my own. How lovely your heart. I see you for what is inside where depth beyond shadows holds treasures of purity and unveiled light that is the beginning of time and the seed sown of God. Grow seed. Sprout and come to light and show life. Show that a torn veil reveals the inner room of your heart. Do not worry or fear, I am there and I will hold you forever.

(c) 2014 Rick Stassi

firefly

lights
dark and frail
gray hanging on to
a bit of white
lest a black demise.
overcast skies absorbing
what sunlight it can
waiting for night
and equanimity of hue.
pinpoint light hidden
well within my soul
shrouded in clouds
screams to be heard
playing with the thought
that even a firefly
can be a lantern
in his small domain…
can I?

(c) 2014 Rick Stassi

each day

Camille Pissarro

Camille Pissarro

drifting,
drifting on a
foundation of shifting
sands as lulling
distractions seep
into thoughts,
dreams, and focused
eyes once held in
fixed gaze now in abstentia
and replaced
by the lure of false confidence
that really seems
ever so true…

such are the tricks
the foibles and feeble
grasps from Untruth
trying to mount
a comeback only to be
trampled upon by a moment of
clarity in which
the open hand of Jesus
pulls the drowning
from the submerged
darkness to
merciful Light.
And we remember
God is omniscient
and forever welcoming
home those who
forget and really believe
they can do it all themselves.

for certain, it is in
brief times
I carry haughty
countenance and piety,
thinking some is enough.
but God says He will perfect me
each day which negates
some days and I take
the hand of Jesus
and begin to patiently
wait as God’s work
in me recommences.

(c) 2014 Rick Stassi