Headroominations...
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Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Eternal Quest
Eternal Quest
Am I forced to retire
when this body expires?
Caused to abandon
my ponderings?
Unable to continue
the wanderings
of my imagination?
Unwilling to relinquish
the squandering of my time,
will I be allowed to fight
for the right to muse?
To grapple with
the “whys” of my moods,
of my purpose,
of my existence?
Can I continue
to be insistent
about what I think
I know is true,
what I believe in
without having proof
nor confirmation?
Firmly clenched
in consternation,
will my brainwaves
continue to race,
even accelerate
as my respiratory rate
and pulse pace
grind to a halt?
As my body yields
to time’s assault,
will I find fault
or perfection
in my reflections
on my embodiment’s
temporal nature,
be reabsorbed
by a Creator
or dissipate
into the vastness
of the universe?
Am I consciousness
or was I human first?
Where do I look
to find answers?
- HymnAgen
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Moved To Tears
I count myself blessed
by a radio moment I shall never forget.
Each word that I heard
as their testimony unfurled
blew me further away
from the selfish concerns
of my insignificant world.
How could that one
forgive the unforgivable?
How could the other
earn the undeserved?
How could they make
their desolate lives livable?
My throat constricted
more the more that I heard
from these resilient spirits –
trying hard to choke back the tears it
seemed my ears pumped
from my heart’s bottomless reserves.
Like water from aquifers –
feeding my amazement,
growing my reverential awe
by showing me death, time and remorse
could bring forth a pure
and honest love.
A love a repentant murderer could profess
and have received by his victim’s mother,
who in turn would confess the same
and freed from the grip of her pain call this man “son.”
by a radio moment I shall never forget.
Each word that I heard
as their testimony unfurled
blew me further away
from the selfish concerns
of my insignificant world.
How could that one
forgive the unforgivable?
How could the other
earn the undeserved?
How could they make
their desolate lives livable?
My throat constricted
more the more that I heard
from these resilient spirits –
trying hard to choke back the tears it
seemed my ears pumped
from my heart’s bottomless reserves.
Like water from aquifers –
feeding my amazement,
growing my reverential awe
by showing me death, time and remorse
could bring forth a pure
and honest love.
A love a repentant murderer could profess
and have received by his victim’s mother,
who in turn would confess the same
and freed from the grip of her pain call this man “son.”
- HymnAgen
http://www.npr.org/2015/07/17/423549790/at-the-end-of-a-murder-sentence-a-redemption-forged-from-forgiveness
Monday, July 13, 2015
Sunday, July 5, 2015
Saturday, July 4, 2015
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