Posted on by Glenn Mower

I usta believe

I usta believe in the rise and the fall

Of my virtual share in computerful worlds

I usta to link all of the love in my  store

To good and bad fortune that knocked at my door

My belief was a thing, something close to my skin

A bling-ring that sparkled at arms length in spring

It would shine out so brightly as new summers begin

That I’d leave it for another as my cold winters drew in  

But now I am trying to live differently

In each breath I grow faith that so gracefully

You already fill me, and you constantly kiss me

That as you guide, love and lift me

Your all knowing self still finds time to forgive me.

Posted on by Glenn Mower

Refreshing the Blessing

I am currently on a song writing course,

here’s this weeks offering

Verse 1
Near to The One are we that mourn
While hungering for Life re-born
Renewal comes to aching hearts
Who warm in Love while pulled apart
For everyone becomes in me
The thoughts I offer them to be
If I am stone I feel no pain
But am denuded just the same

Chorus:

And now beyond the fear, receive both loud and clear:
Blessings from you, Blessings from me
Joining anew with Loves unity
Goodness becoming, Goodness refreshing
These Blessings on Blessings, on Blessings, on Blessings

Verse 2
To shrink our ego’s near to nought
Intention needs to follow thought
When silence in our hearts take root
We blossom into ripened fruit
When with the loveless we consort
Good News breaks through to now report
Our suffering’s washing out again
As Blessings come from sun and rain.

Chorus:
And now let us rejoice, by lifting-up our voice:
Blessings from you, Blessings from me
Joining anew with Loves unity
Goodness becoming, Goodness refreshing
These Blessings on Blessings, on Blessings, on Blessings

Bridge:
Within this moment and this breath
Pause to re-remember that we are Blessed.

Verse 3
How fluidly for friends and foe
Do blessings from peacemaker’s flow
They float on Oceans unity
Make Graceful waves while all at sea
Immersed within the merciful
Awashed with Love for one and all
These beautiful forgiving ones
Bring buoyancy to living stones.

Posted on by Glenn Mower

oiling Your palm

 

pausing I pour

 this way and that

that

i may disappear

within Your honeyed

Translucence

fertile and pure

Your

sweet pulsing elegance

in Grace-fuelled dhikr

 immersing

soft green shoots of

Eastern Sun Light

 palm pressing fresh fruits

needing till ripe with

Great goodness seeping

through pulp, pith and kin

earthly distinctions

composting in Him.

 

the above was written in response to:

The Head of The Prophecy (6,21-8,27)

‘It is like a palm shoot whose dates dropped around it. It produced buds and after they grew, its productivity dried up.

It certainly would be good if you produce new growth now. You would certainly find it.’

Know Yourselves (12,17-13,25)

 

‘Be eager to harvest for yourselves a head of the grain of life that you may be filled with the kingdom.

Do not be proud because of the light that enlightens. Rather, act towards yourselves as I myself have toward you. ’

(quoted from ‘The secret book of James’  which is the first chapter in The Nag Hammadi Scriptures edited by Marvin Meyer published by Harper One in 2007)

 

Next blogs: The Gospel of Truth.

Posted on by Glenn Mower

Night daze

Endarkenment immense

light glance this cliff edged firmament
these ocean thrusts and sweating spume
re-foam this cleaving cleft of discontent
sweet soak this night with Loves perfume
re-float this will-filled would entanglement
this hope-long-roped-on sophanes ledge
unclasped at last, to weep and flow within
your grace swathed Anchorage.

Posted on by Glenn Mower

Time to Pause

This is my first post for maybe five months.

It has been a wonderful time to pause, centre and immerse into contemplative practice, private discourse and growth.

Please find below a celebration of a shared experience of pausing last week.

Pausing together.

I sit next to James’ glassy eyed breath

slurring in grief and quiet disconnect to

witness stressed footfalls pass swift his lament

brown staining duvet and cardboard cement

changeless frayed fingering in woollen damp thread

cap churning suchness through fear fuelling dread.

To follow, I swallow guilt filled regret

bus fares, fast food and dead father non-sleep

sick discharge of mother and sore bloated feet

crazings on paving, stunned cracks in shared ground

oozed out un-sparing, unseen yet, profound

re-rememberings of something beyond

so still to relax I sit side by side

still breathing with James, still leaning, we Three

for grace-filled unknowings to let this time be.

 

Posted on by Glenn Mower

Wakefulness begun

St Therese to chaplain Piere Belliere, in 1897,
a few months before her death at age 24:

I am not dying, I am entering into life.

Wakefulness again begun.
Bleeding free upon glimpsed shards of Luminous trust
that mysteriousness between this and this
sensational suffering mind.

yes

quietly wake to still
this and this constantly re-fining will
re-fuel oneself to wait upon

that still small Voice

that Glittering Jewel

that active, in-active othering choice
to re-ignite in blessed hoped for souls renewal
by sinking-in ankle deep
that Ground grown moist
from leakages of wonton wounds and size nine feet

Now

to stretch those tiny toes deeply deep
into that oozing boiling balm
that heated hopeful weight full ness
immersions that convert alarm to dozing daze and waits to be
replenished and be-calmed in fertile fires and shining mists
of Love and Grace said to exist beyond this and this
pre-occupied pre-possessed never ended re-positioning of grasp and cling to
flesh and bone and time and test.