The Moor (Poem by R.S. Thomas)
It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot,
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot,
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
It is true, you are too much for some—
especially those who have not yet learned
they carry the sea inside them.
I hope you find something among all this artwork, photography, memes, links, and quotes that spurs you on, informs, inspires, supports, educates, or motivates you.
All prayers– even the wild and savage ones– point to the one recurring response: Yes, its always love.
I hope you find something among all this artwork, photography, memes, links, and quotes that spurs you on, inspires, supports, educates, or motivates you.
When, in the cavern darkness, Jesus
opened his small, bleating mouth (even before his eyes widened to the supple world his lungs had sighed into being), did he intuit how hungrily the lungs gasp?
These still December mornings
I fancy I live in a clear envelope of angels like a cellophane womb. Or a soap bubble, the colors drifting, curling.
Love relentlessly, she said, and I want to slip these two words into every cell in my body, not the sound of the words, but the truth of them…
I was so excited by it, I thought you needed to know about it as well1
We said, what if makin’ was like light itself,
Spreadin’ through the room, no shelf, no self.
Not easy to hear the soft chant of my breath with the rumble of river nearby.
I hope you find something among all this artwork, photography, memes, links, and quotes that spurs you on, inspires, supports, educates, or motivates you.
All that is eternal in me welcomes the wonder of this day…
Some say there is no art without the maker, beauty cannot live without it’s shaper.