Teardrops of Time

Time is a measurement, 

 Giving the illusion of control, 

 A metering of reality, 

 To make sense in our minds, 

 The measure of entropy, 

 In an imperfect world, 

 Where the only continuum,

 Is the constant of change. 

 The only real change, 

 Comes from the craft of creation,

 Where things of the mind, 

 Become things of the world, 

 From the energy of thought, 

 And the work of our hands, 

 Through the doorway of the heart, 

 To be born beneath the stars. 

 All thought is energy, 

 All matter is energy, 

 The difference between the two, 

 Is the veil of doubt in our minds, 

Torn asunder by the heart,

Letting the light of truth through,

Sparking Creation’s birth,

In the magic of life.

This light of experience,

Shines through all things,

A homeless mother’s eyes,

On this her little girl’s birthday,

Painting her joy onto my words,

Through the light of her heart,

 Under the clouds that we share, 

 Outside of your door. 

 Experiences are things, 

 Gifts of timeless love, 

 Moments from the heart, 

 Alive through the eternity of love, 

 Moments from the heart, 

 Adding to the ocean of life, 

 Just like tear drops of time, 

 Into eternity. 

The Veil of Time

 

Time is the perception of space, 

Measuring speed crossing distance.

 Without the perception of space, 

 Time could not exist. 

 Crossing between old and new, 

 Traveling between right and left, 

 Yet if in physics there is no size, 

 Then travel occurs in thought. 

 Thought creates the boundaries, 

 Between the lines of time. 

 For thought would fall apart, 

 In seeing all states present at once.

 Human eyes cannot see, 

 What is not first seen in the mind..

 Yet all that was and will be, 

 Was first conceived in thought. 

 All things created were thought of, 

 And thought is where all things are born.

 All of reality is Creation.

 Which could not exist without the Creator.

 Our breath holds balance against the vacuum, 

 As we rocket through space against the stars. 

 Our universe of pictures creates thought, 

 While thoughts manifest in pictures. 

 Retreating to the world of thought, 

 There is no acknowledgment of time. 

 When a day of joy passes in minutes, 

 And moments of terror last forever. 

 The heart stands immune to time, 

 Through the unbound strength of love. 

 Within that eternal realm, 

 Hearts in heaven and in Earth are one. 

 Life turns the pages of time, 

 Making illusion seem real through change. 

 Yet as change measures time in our thoughts, 

 The things that are true stay the same.

 Separation through space is illusion, 

 If in physics size does not exist. 

 In this way space, time and thought, 

 Are held as one in the hand of God. 

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.

Potential

What can be done today,

Is missing from tomorrow,

A challenge overcome,

For challenges to come,

One gives way to the other,

As potential energy realized,

Becomes energy in the real,

Reality around us,

Altering the path to come,

Changing who we are,

Just a bit,

Just a little bit,

For once today is past,

Its ghost escapes our grasp,

Yet the things we have done,

Form ground for things to come,

And if Heaven is a real place,

Then what’s to come is perfect,

Leaving things to do now,

Which only exist in imperfection,

As none will need help in Heaven,

None will require learning,

Nothing will need to be created,

As all will be in perfect beauty,

Forever.

What enters our souls,

Carries greater effect,

Than what enters our bodies,

As changes in who we are,

Form changes in reality,

Forming change in others still,

Stilling the chilling truth,

That everything matters,

Just a bit,

Sometimes more,

For the energy of hidden thought,

Exists in the reality of life,

Showing time in reality,

With no forwards or back,

As all is seen together,

In the reality of this universe,

In the reality of God’s sight,

Beyond the illusion of our vision,

Trapped in the veil of entropy,

Using borrowed breath,

So that in a short space of time,

We gather meaning in purpose,

Gathering souls in our hands,

Adding love to life’s song,

Eternally.