Dust

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Picasso

Aligned with vanity,
So much disappears
That holds hope;
That leads thought;
That blows away.
The dust knows not
The wind nor the ground –
Making peace with each
once, in a while.
Can it be my soul?
A foot on the rung
That Ascends,
Temporal to eternal.
Or, the heart of faith?
Firmly grounded in perspective
Greater than a day.

How shall I be?
Who am I now?

The heavenly voice
Engraved on my heart,
Shall ever be
The place where my soul
Is firmly cleaved.
And I shall be revived.

“My soul clings to the dust;
Revive me according to Your word.”
Ps 119 25,26

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a time

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Henri LeBasque

Strong is the pull
to Mother’s womb
a time of innocence
gone so soon.

Stronger is inherent drive
to Father’s gaze
a time for worthiness
reverence and praise.

greater will

hassam

Childe Hassam

I wonder in color,
dream in vivid hue.
count blessings on hands and feet,
awaken amid waxing blue

The days ever so bitter,
the time ever so lost.
all safely tucked away now,
forgotten tattered and tossed.

Optism is the brighter way,
joy is better still.
when hope and trust in greater things,
are resting in Father’s will.

(c) 2018 Rick Stassi

Autumn

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Loriann Signor

Upon the face of newer times
the elaborate losing sway
settled in to ocher tones
diminishing  harshness fray.

The failing of ancient thoughts
Quiet days taking hold
The journey paused in fog-shroud paths
just happily growing old.

Now is Autumn in solemn gaze
no slowness in despair
to let the Lord above me now
ponder my affair

-Rick