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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mindfulness

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Degas

In the evening of these waning days,
my heart reaches out to gather
times past.
Thoughts are obsessed with memory
elixirs easing stinging
effects of this breath.
Mind not to rest in
haunting enemies of the past.
Rather, delight in love then and now.
As I hold onto the light
that has nurtured me this lifetime,
I see a family with a young child.
My tears reflect time passed
too quickly with many moments
gone in oversight.
I want time back
and I need that child
to release me into the fullness
of my adulthood.
A glance and a smile promises
hope of such escape.
Acknowledge a thought and
bid it farewell
to accept newer times
in brighter days
absorbed in green leas
in sheltering skies.
It is here that
I shall grow old.

(c) rick stassi 2017

infinity mine

vangogh

van gogh

I have thought beyond daily toil
and seen hope rendered useless
with simple conjecture.
My self is vanity and
a soul satisfied in ego
is sorrowful emptiness.
Alas help me grasp
the planar vision of Jesus
with all of life
contained within four sides – each line
seeking the infinite dutifully in each direction.
I am the plane and emptiness subsides,
grasping each contained point
with each cell of my being.
O number these days
in sanctuary
with the Lord
and fill me with
Light and Love
and hope anew.
I am a being of God
and my every breath expels
vanity and inhales
peace.

(c) 2017 rick stassi

Upon Grassy Knoll

peonies

Flailing arms
In a panicked sea
Determined currents
Fashioned for me.
Are there vessels
That purposefully float
On meaningful ways
Ushered by words God wrote?
Should I swim
Against icy torrent
Listlessly failing
All motivation spent,
Or calmly believe
Life for eternity
Is more than existing
In trifled monotony.
I weep for those
In existential pride
Who toil all their days
To hear purposed confide.
A whisper of truth
Flies far overhead
This moment’s reveal
Now left for dead.
And hope appears
On ancient scroll
That finds me at peace
Upon grassy knoll.

(c) 2017 Rick Stassi

meadows green

renoir-landscape-summer

I long to see the lighter side
where troubled heart shall soon abide
engaging glances from heavenly will
seeking refuge in waters still.
I want to see the warming sky
where mind contemplates God on high
enraging a world so temporally serene
finding rest on meadows green.

(c) 2017 rickjstassi

serenity

pissarro

Camille Pissarro

i tend to think about some things
that lend to sprout of temporal wings
i float aloft in empty skies
dreaming of escape from miry lies.

there is death among such losses
led by which way the angry wind tosses
this spiral into endless chasm
heart hardened in infinite sarcasm

shall i break from where it’s dark
knees in prayer and humility stark
I find the way to softness and green
is to peer upon deep water serene

(c) 2016-2017 rickjstassi

“…God is good”

still water

cassatt

Cassatt

O, to not peer
through tinted glass,
where thoughts are veiled
in vain morass.

does clarity rise
on ascending wings?
poor clouded mind
won’t allow such things.

and as I wait
upon green lea,
in still waters
my soul shall see.

(c)2016 emanatingjoy.com