Friday, November 30, 2012

Physical Thought

We use imperfect thought to bring reality into creation through the work of our hands.
What work would be necessary with perfect thought?

Behold imperfect thought,
How lovely it can be,
I can imagine a treehouse,
Or the sound of infinity,
The colors of feelings,
Which can only be heard,
What could not be before,
In our minds will find a door,
Coming through work of our hands,
We use energy to fashion materials,
Materials composed of energies,
For when you take atoms apart,
What else left is there?
If thought is a form of enegry,
And thoughts are reality pictured,
Than could picture perfect thought,
Compose the reality we live?
The perfect thought of God,
With images from his heart,
Could find physical being,
As the reality where we live,
The earth beneath our feet,
The stars which steer our sky,
The air that gives us laughter,
And the beauty that makes us cry,
I can find no difficulty,
As the Bible tells me how,
God created the world,
With the words that he spoke,
From that which was not,
To the stars white and hot,
And the life gift that we live,
From the power of physical thought.

Friday, November 9, 2012

How Could Hell Exist, If God Loves Us?




This piece appears in my book, "Endless Perspective of Life".   I remember when I wrote this.  I was ironing and my wife was talking to her parents on Skype when I started thinking about Hell of all things.  I was thinking of reality in terms of sub atomic physics as described by Isaac Asimov in a textbook I read at least 20 years prior.  My wife looked at me in astonishment as I wrote, then ironed, then wrote, then ironed.  This was the result.

Imagine,
Just imagine,
Tumbling through time,
This world we now embrace,
The reality we face,
Composed of empty space.

In freefall,
Through the universe,
Of atoms we are made,
A shimmering cascade,
An energized façade.

Each atom,
For a start,
With neutrons in the heart,
Electrons spinning in a sphere,
Flung high within their atmospheres,
Mostly empty space,
Mystery,
Deep mystery,
Whose meaning we can not face.

The matter,
That we stand upon,
Presents a solid face,
Appearance that appears to last,
Yet delicate,
So delicate,
We live around our solid ground,
Which is much more frail than glass.

Electrons,
Of each kind,
In likeness form a bind,
As atoms form a tether,
And masses bind together,
Yet what if the energy of time,
Somehow suddenly unwinds,
And the electron force derails?
Allowing mass to fall through mass,
Into eternal depth to pass,
With speed increasing,
Never ceasing,
In horror unsurpassed.

Each atom’s charge,
Giving discharge,
Like a pricking from thin wire,
Yet through trillion atoms,
Forever freefall,
Burns like a lake of fire,
Impenetrable chaos,
Spinning out of control,
A repulsion of life,
Shutting out the light,
Tumbling through the fire,
In eternal midnight.

What holds us high,
Above such horror,
In our physical delight?
How much more delicate,
Our eternal souls,
Which transcend the night?
It is nothing but the heart of God,
The perfect strength of His hand,
The eternal bond of His true love,
The indescribable logic of His plan,
Even through difficulty of life’s pain,
To be with Him is my love,
Until pain is but a memory,
In Heaven’s entrancing joy above,
I know that nothing can change truth,
Nothing can dispel,
That to be with God is Life,
To be apart from God is Hell.