Winter Sun (Son)



I can feel my skin start to warm up. The Winter Sun is far warmer than it should be this time of year. I know it’s a blessing. I’ll lie here in wait for it to rise over the tree tops.

Already the sky is starting to turn blue.

There are no clouds. There is no reason to be scared. The Wind gently stirs leaves just outside the window.

Spring is coming, but there is still some time till then. Not much at all. Soon.

It’s getting brighter and brighter but the Winter Sun has still not fully arrived. There is no doubt that he will arrive. The birds know and chirp with joy.

The Winter Sun is moving and will arrive soon.


The Beast

SAM_1125.jpgI’ve stroked the hair of the beast. The one that dwells within me. It bids me to move to the places that I do not desire. And yet desire more than I can describe.

What could tame my wicked heart?
It despairs at thoughts thinked too beautiful.
It is hard when I know it is made to be soft.
Let rock turn to flesh.

Let death be turned to life.

World locked in silence.
Screaming because we do not hear.
Weeping because we do not see.
Squirming because we cannot feel.

O Lord,
Let death be turned to life.

The Final Flight

A poem that I wrote in 2008. I eventually integrated it into a short story that I will post at a later date.

Turbulence breaks

The Silence.

Some fellow down the row

Splutters and laughs.

A child screams.


The pilot steps out

From the cockpit.

His head hangs.


“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”


Silence is installed again.


A precious smile breaks over my face.


“Why are you smiling?”

A small voice whispers inside.


“Everyone is wondering about

The people they will miss,

They question motives,

Pray for forgiveness–”


“Why are you smiling?”

The overweight man next to me asks.


“If we had been told when we took off

That we were to die,

No one would have stepped on board.


By accepting at any second we could,

Then this suddenly seems like a suicidal choice.”


“Why are you smiling?”

That voice anxiously whispers again.


“By being,

We are all just wishing for death,

But when we suddenly do,

We fear and turn into



“And the smile?!?”

The sweaty victim screeches.


“I am afraid.”



Cold streaks of endless sunlight
Working towards being warm and comforting.
Disassociate all creativity from creation,
What a miserable crime indeed.

Still air against mountain drops
Flowers that hold no dew and draw from the Earth.
The creativity in creation,
What a goal to reach.

An untangled spider-web
Holds it’s master in balance,
How perfect is creativity in this;
As functional as it is beautiful.

The great mystery is not mysterious
To those who would see more than just the beauty:
That all this beauty functions to
Reveal the One who is the most beautiful of all.



There are things given
And much more taken.

I’ll pretend the breath I hold
Is something that I worked for
And deserve.

The cold on my skin
Doesn’t kill me.
It doesn’t even make me feel more alive.
I am simply alive.

This is so much more than a simple fact
I am held and sustained
For a single purpose.

I am blessed in relationship
To be a blessing in relationship.