What will happen if the world becomes too hot for flowers?
Is this too bleak a thought to ponder?
Surely there must be others like me who love inflorescence;
the greatest sign that God didn’t mean for us only to think of pragmatics or “most efficient.”
Aren’t obsessive quests for progress senseless when you love God’s flowers?
They are like us and we, like them:
eternally ephemeral,
in His eyes,
already perfect.
Images of faces increasingly saturate this world we share.
Everywhere I see them; on billboards and buildings, houses and buses … on real people’s faces; plastered plastic imitations of (wo)men’s visages.
Faces, all of them, trying to sell me something: a potion or lotion; a stone – hidden knowledge – promising me love, freedom and happiness …
All the world’s wondrous ineffable intangibles, guaranteed to be mine!
if only I discard the contents of my wallet to feed someone else’s voracious greed:
lies told by those believing their own lies.
Once the quest for personal profit ceases to be a matter of survival and instead corrodes into the Satanic desire to have more, always more, you create your own Hell in which to live.
All that is good and true in this world is granted by Him and felt in our hearts.
Thus I yearn only for the faces of God; the good Virgin Mary; and my dear, loving husband.
for guidance from angels
coalesce into music
the voice of God
sing forth
this moment you are
thrown off balance
in this world
have faith
in His greatness
in Reason He intends
for us
to piece together
unity transcendent
O breathe!
pray and pray and pray
for God is forgiving
My love be like a red, red rose
with soft, petaled cheeks but a body of thorns.
O God forbid my love be like a red, red rose
such consummate flourishing withered forthwith.
The bloom is off the rose!
One should not be so fragrant and sweet and smarting and meek.
I want a love more dependable, I suppose.
Whiny Cat 