The approaching storm...

Morning clouds linger and cover our skies
The sun is out shining but hid from our eyes
A dampness and coolness is hanging around
Soon we will hear it: that  showery sound

Storms have been circling, they're ready to land
Others have seen how they can get out of hand
Soon they'll approach us with winds and some hail
Winter is readying to leave with some gale

The moisturous molecules are ready to burst
Earth has already been quenched of her thirst
With flooding and drenching the rains will all fall
Spring is approaching with a most noisy squall

So turn on your radios and be ready to run
Spring has her tempests that  shake up everyone
Unpredictable but visible..the colors of the sky
Tell us of twisters that  await our reply..

All the awesomeness

Have you heard them, in the morning, all the birds inside their song?
They are singing,  they are tweeting: to this world, we do not belong
Oh to see them: lightly jumping; pecking; peeking:  all around
Its uplifting; so amazing: how serene their morning sound...

If you listen, in the morning, when the sun is starting to rise
You can hear them, all the atoms; as they paint the bright blue skies.
With the elements and the molecules; they create  a wondrous air
We can join them, in their brilliance; for they're inviting us with care

Oh, too often, we're so busy: running here and running there
We haven't time,to ever see it::   the wondrous artwork everywhere...
We're up and out the door so quickly; before the day can even  begin
But, do we notice, at any moment, all the awesomeness  shining in?

Let's take the time  this morning to gaze outside and see the blue
That stretches high and salutes us; as it  whispers love to me and you
All the awesomeness that is about us,  all the wondrous signs of grace
Let us notice them.. every blessing.. and for a moment give them some space..

Tomorrow in our hands....

Can you hear it, in the air, all the sounds of the weeping
People from all over: who are struggling and not sleeping
Troubles are quickly mounting..and the peoples are at war
Some are carrying machine guns; others: just shut the door

And the world all around us is crying out for peace
Wounded groups of peoples are seeking some release
Sometimes we war through armies and other times we do not
Bullets aren't the only means by which our wars are fought

Morning noon and evening on the network and the air
People hear of bloodshed and of prejudices everywhere
Children fear their classroom; countries lie in ruin
Healing for this world could not come to us too soon.

And the world all around us is crying out for peace
Wounded groups of peoples are seeking some release
Sometimes we war through armies and others we do not
Bullets are the only means by which our wars are fought..

The people holding power do not walk with those who cry
They cannot feel their heartbreaks or begin to understand why
Homes are being demolished from within and not without
Would that politicians would know what politicking is about.

And the world all around us is crying out for peace
Wounded groups of peoples are seeking some release
Sometimes we war through armies and others we do not
Bullets are the only means by which our wars are fought..

Soon our time will end here and before the One we'll stand
There isn't any escaping it . we hold tomorrow in our hand
We won't have any surprises: any wool pulled over our eyes
For the mansion that is awaiting is  built with our supplies..

And the world all around us is crying out for peace
Wounded groups of peoples are seeking some release
Sometimes we war through armies and others we do not
Bullets are the only means by which our wars are fought..

Guns in their hands?

Tears in their eyes
And tears on their face
Is it a surprise,
This terrible disgrace?

Children are killing
Guns are in their hands?
Evil's now thrilling?
How hard is this to understand?

A day like any another;
But blood starts to run,
Somebody's brother
Is carrying a gun

Children are killing
Guns are in their hands?
Evil's now thrilling?
How hard is this to understand?

Floors hold the victims
And closets the screams
Where is the system
That can fix shattered dreams?

Children are killing
Guns are in their hands?
Evil's now thrilling?
How hard is this to understand?

Eyes once so innocent
Now seeing such fear
Each one's more vigilant
Afraid of what's near

Children are killing
Guns are in their hands?
Evil's now thrilling?
How hard is this to understand?

Something is happening
Our world is all mad
Headlines are saddening
An orphan has gone bad...

Children are killing: 
Guns are in their hands?
Evil's now thrilling?
How hard is this to understand?

What will we all do now
To settle this wrong
We cannot continue to allow
The theme of this song

Children are killing: 
Guns are in their hands?
Evil's now thrilling?
How hard is this to understand?

Something seen and unseen

As the whispering wind starts singing, and bringing us the brightness of day:
Listen with the ears of your spirit, to what it is wanting to say...
For loving us and illuminating us ; and soothing us with all that's here
These oxygenated molecules are telling us: we are dear

From where all of the rays start their shining ...to where they will be unseen
So many of the sacred messages,  are waiting to be heard and gleaned
Inside of all the mighty-ness and inside of all of  the obscure
The Eternal is leaving  an Imprint which can be found by us for sure...

Like all of the many created but unlike the ones who are above
We continue to seek out all of the reasons, for the many signs of love
But, our mortality stops us from seeing, from knowing what we really need
To capture what is eternally invisible but attainable through our creed

So stop for a moment this morning and hear with the ears of your heart
The echoes of the Eternal Creator who has given us our life, our start
For surely as  morning... is  morning and the daylight is here for us right now
We will be enlightened and  awakened by the Eternity that is ours: some how..

Sacred soundings...

I sit here in the silence and soak in the lack of noise
Listening ever so intently, without a need to voice:
The wisdom, the knowledge, or anything attained..
My sharing, my writing, will speak of what's obtained

The morning, the evening and sometimes at midday;
I stop, for a brief moment, to listen along the way:
To hear what isn't spoken but  always is  around;
For the flowers and the sunshine and the breezes are  His sound

The Spirit is always echoing, and  touching all with grace
Sometimes so very  silently; but always able to trace
In the hearts of all the believers the listeners and the saints
You can sense the Sacred Soundings as the Spirit serenely paints