The Weight of Thought

“The eye can never free what is real, from the throbbing of human time.”

- St. John Paul II from his poem, “Proper Weight”.

Within each person,

Resides something shapeless,

Without form or color,

With all colors and forms,

Loud within its silence,

Without measure in simplicity.

This is something,

Beginning from nothing,

Becoming all things,

The thought residing in us,

Becoming life from us,

Melting light into truth.

Nothing captures this immensity,

Which each soul faces alone,

While trying to express in words,

Exposing glimpses with shards of light,

And all of the colors of the world,

Form a fraction of the palette of thought.

Thought is formed of energy,

As rock is only energy,

Two opposing wills of force,

Resisting blows received,

Until the fire of the heart,

Bends the rock beneath the mind.

Yet the rock is but an image,

Seeming solid in its strength,

Simplicity bonded in energy,

Which yields to the human hand,

As the image within the mind,
Grapples further with the soul.

And yet the rock is one of many,

Among an ocean of human souls,

Forming currents upon this rock,

Warmed in space of the circling sun,

Spinning accurately through the infinite,

Of a thought within God’s mind.

Thought is only energy,

As energy is mass in motion,

Mass in motion carries weight,

Weight deepens wells of perspective,

Drawing the soul within the solitude,

That we may find ourselves.

The Sound of Light

The following poem is dedicated to Carthy.

The light of God's glory is beyond human comprehension.

We will know the true scope of it when we see Him.

Can you hear over the light?

The immense sound of the light,

Like singing, thunder, and wind,

Drowning out all other sound,

All that remains is the heartbeat of life,

And the beautiful sound of light.

Can you feel the light?

The unspeakable beauty of light?

Without words it touches the heart,

With fingers soft upon the skin,

Yet sharp as blades upon the mind,

For it reaches out to the soul,

Light is through the heart to the soul.

Can you see the sound?

Beyond words or notes of music,

Overcoming all with silence,

A silence beyond words,

Seen through the eyes of the heart,

Expressed in the motion of love,

Love defined by the infinite truth.

Can you feel the sound?

For all the seconds of the infinite,

Are the particles of energy,

Forming all the fields of  matter,

Mattering to the mind,

Changing through eternity,

And here but for a moment,

While we travel back to the start.

The Tenth Die

 

In his hands the dice were rolled,

Seemingly random as if a game,

Each die taking shape of thought,

Every one rolling its will unto His,

Dimensions in His hands cast forth,

Three were rolled for the physical world,

Another three for Heaven's perfect realm,

And also another place taking form,

The only place without Him,

Freedom within the physical,

Creating creation in the game given,

Walking to and from without thinking,

Walking without realizing the unseen,

Stepping through the same space as others,

Others stepping through us unseen,

The tenth die was lost for a time,

Lost until sin entered into the world,

And at that time He released time,

Thrown from His hand into ours,

A gift released to us in love,

As the tenth die once lost was thrown,

And as it was meant to be,

The tenth die will be taken up.

Bombay Beach

Kokomo, of musical fame, does not exist.

Bombay Beach is real.

Marked upon a map,

Beside a sea of salt,

The binocular symbol beckons,

As a beacon unto travelers,

About the place to see,

Along this desert sea.

A colorful sign presents,

As you take your turn to tell,

And telling signs in the distance,

Show pictures of the past,

Abandoned boarded homes,

With cars parked anew.

You find a place to enter there,

Quietly exiting your car,

Entering reluctant into the heat,

On a white beach of sand,

A sand that crunches strangely,

The way that snow does not.

In the distance over the waters,

The very still waters reflecting,

The sounds of birds deflecting,

Calling out with whispered voices,

“Aaaayyeeee!”

“Aaayyeeee!”

And now the gazes appear,

The strange gazes of the silent,

Looking at you without blinking,

Looking at you in the heat,

Staring at you in your heartbeat,

While they do not even sweat.

As fear creeps inside you,

With a quiet stilling of the heart,

You run towards the storefront abandoned,

Trying the locked door before you,

Seeing nothing but darkness within,

As something is banging to get out.

Back to the beachfront you run,

For a clear safe vision around you,

Then noticing the faces in white,

Amidst the tiny bones of sand,

Eyeless and withered mouths open,

As their voices whisper, “Staaayyyee…”

Grasping the map from your pocket,

To see where indeed you have come,

The binocular marked scenic view,

With both circles now U’s turned over,

Now clearly marks “Silenced View”,

As the sun’s rays weaken your stance.

The silent strangers observe you,

Never blinking as the sun whitens,

While their baby in bassinet brightens,

Slowly turning in steady stare,

Smile slowly spreading on his lips,

As the sun bleaches out your view.

As the brightness fades back to vision,

You have a clear vision of the sea,

Clearly seeing your rust eaten car,

As you are standing as one with the strangers,

While the sun sets into still waters,

With the sea rising over your smile.