ripples

“Viragcsokor-1896”
Gauguin

Somethings never change
i watch ripples ebb and flow
each taking their turn upon the shore
every one in its own perfection
a mirror of before and after.

If I should possess that constancy
would I fade hopelessly
before and after in gray repetition?

Or should I stake my claim
in some parts from before
to fortify my today making each lapping wave
of my days just a bit better.

Alas ages and seasons cause my leaves to fall
and my throat dries
parched from screaming
at yesterday and tomorrow
sulking in today’s sorrow with a
perspective blinded by shadows and charcoals.

I yearn to come alive again
in fullness of a green spring
and be transparent…

Gentle breezes come
into my soul like
a melody of beautiful
sound and harmonic
resonance with notes settling
for a rest, a breath.

Hope is where I rest.
Hope doesn’t ebb and flow
but persists as the waves
that caress the shores.
Hope is constant.

Let me be reminded
all seems the same
in this absolute perspective of hope.
The only thing that
changes is leaves to green
as wisdom and hope steadily
grace this vessel in autumn
and bless me through harsh seasons
until spring.

I focus on the horizon
to travel a straight path and
know today will bring
a gift that will be opened
tomorrow and remembered always.

(c) 2015 rick stassi

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in passages

“Valery-sur-Somme” Artist: Degas

there are passages we traipse through
where lessons are learned
even in impossible darkness
interrupted by a lucid glimmer of hope.

a page is turned in a book of life
with trials passing by lying on my back
on green leas with you
and cloudless days with endless azure.

looking through a glass darkly
here i know change leads to clarity and
in clarity is the face of God where
I shall see myself as He has always seen me.
How romantic are words of Life
akin with warm spring sun
on my skin.

O love how you bind when
compassion holds sway
and harmonic measures with
melody flawless in times precious
Our hands are clasped in this.

The sound of a stream pouring
busily overs smooth rocks
emitting cool mist and a lullaby
of gentle sounds from which within
many voices can be deciphered
declaring all of cherished
voices and remembered songs.

I miss times of old
I hope to replay some of them
in reflective memory
and to dream of things to come.

tears of joy are the elixir
from tepid days in apathy
forgotten now in passages
to a new life now and forever.

(c) rick stassi

how beautiful

“Landscape with Stormy Sky”
Camille Pissarro

how beautiful is this day
with fragrant fields harboring
dew captured on tiny leaves
replenishing and nourishing

how sweet the melody rising and
discordant sounds failing to
resonant streams knit note by note
falling upon my wanting ears

awaken with beautiful smile
as sadness is forgotten and hope
transitions from things wrought
yesterday to trust in new birth today

sing o heart of joy!
God sets His hand on my world
tears dry and eyes open
to meet sunrise’s new light

welcome Spirit, within my soul abideth thee
for now I am certain beyond
all material objection,
that I am a child of God

(c) 2015 rick stassi

a new worship

Loriann Signori

Loriann Signori

storms ebb in pale gray dawn
as first light stirs and
eyes are rubbed in confusion –
for a bit – as thoughts catch up
to this moment.
what we believe we cannot endure,
soon is another victory
claimed with the confidence bred
in the aftermath.
however, listen now and hear:
true victory is realized
in the battle
in a tender cry of joy.
All things are made new
and there is a new worship.
A time when we sacrifice wholly
and give out of pure selflessness
even in biting pain.
There is a glint of light
out of the corner of my eye
and though merely a glint,
truly a beacon of victory
as I am reminded that as we
seek more understanding,
our worship is more than new
as in a fresh day, but new, as if
never been previously seen.
this is my word from God:
That we must cast off trite
daily ritual and seek
perspective through His eyes.
He makes all thing new
and the sweetest moment
happens in a dim morning
awakening – realizing we did not
just endure, but we flourished
and a new heaven and
a new earth beckon with
crystal water of Life flowing
from the throne of the Lord
and He sees it is good.

(c) 2015 rick stassi

the new times

chrysanthemums-1897

“O hardened heart!” cries the stone,
Alas, failing beauty, the flowers bemoan.
Green to brown, grasses sad fanfare,
Breeze entwined in thistle, cool respite rare.

For man alone awaits those days –
“The new times, better times”, he vacantly prays.
Impatiently wringing, hands gnarly worn.
Overtly succumbed, contrived and forlorn.

New softening light eases the stone’s point of view.
Layered fragrance for a flower so sweet and new.
Brown to green, the grasses joyfully rave,
Breeze envelops the thistle to a blissful new wave.

For man among men sees this day,
With dove and cross, O death’s dismay.
Dreamily gazing at time beyond,
The grass, the flower, the stone shall bond.

(c) 2014 rick stassi