This rock-strewn shore
This stoney Isle
This hardened land
Of heartened folk
That no catastrophe can sunder
No hardship wither
Nor keep them from the sea
This place of no small beauty
And gracious souls
Cape Breton
This rock-strewn shore
This stoney Isle
This hardened land
Of heartened folk
That no catastrophe can sunder
No hardship wither
Nor keep them from the sea
This place of no small beauty
And gracious souls
Cape Breton
I wait my turn
Impatient
For the opportunity
To challenge
The sky
Leave the storm sodden Earth
Rise into the promise
Of light
Breaking through the cloud
But why?
Why wait?
Is not the sky
Beckoning?
Are these not wings
To lift me?
There is no control tower
No queue for the runway
My hand rests
On the throttle
All that’s needed
Is the will to engage
The engines
Most of us are allowed a choice there
To dive right in with more or less grace
Or cling to the land against the inexorable tides
No matter the choice, whether or no we have one
We are all, inevitably, drawn down into that great depth
I rather like to think a beautiful light awaits us there
Spirit moved
By the artistry
By the grandeur
By the grace
I know there are saints
Not like these saints
I know there are angels
Not like these angels
I know there is god
Not like this god
I know there is heaven
Not like this heaven
Spirit moved
By these metaphors
Manifest
In the people
I have known
In the places
I have been
In the light
I have seen
In the grace
I have experienced
In the beauty
I have created
For all I have
For all that’s yet to come
For all the possibility
Which I can not yet see
And most of all
For the love I give
And am given freely
The love pervading all
On this and every day
The grace we share through love
Here am I
On the cusp of the sky
While far below
Rivers and life
In endless flow
Reminding myself
Of the importance
Of even one small voice
In the tide of events
Like the butterfly
In Beijing
I flutter
Back down to the valley
Where I ride the flow
Singing
From the depth of my soul
Formidable
Majestic
A divine grace
Nonetheless
Ultimately
Terrifying
By the things we
construct
create
imagine
For
love
grace
beauty
meaning
Utility
Matters little
To me
Except
In a tool
For creation