Wisdom’s grace

Wisdom’s grace is missed with ease,

when I listen to fancy’s breeze.

The sweet caress of easy ways,

promises hope, then leaves me dazed.

 

A trap is found in history’s logic

passed down for years as if its tonic.

It blocks the heart that feeds on fears,

and leaves my present in arrears.

 

Wisdom’s grace comes in with freedom.

It gently kisses, creates anew.

Wisdom’s quiet ways come singing,

dancing smoothly with identity’s “being”.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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On being the One.

Young girl with eyes so bright,

listens with hope instead of fright.

The hope is strong, I can feel the shift,

of power found, of dreams that lift.

The spirit deep within her feels,

the awakening hint of sparks that flare.

She senses deep within a force.

that yearns for her to dance of course!

The music hints of a grander role,

so tied to dreams once only mourned.

Her breath at moments, is caught and held,

as mystery sings and her heart just rings.

It all connects with the Spirit’s breath,

whose fire inspires as she flees her death.

The power flows freely to break the chains,

of life that’s lived under fears domain.

 

She sits up straighter-

her eyes are clear!

There’s steel in her backbone!

There’s strength in her arm!

She’s stepped out of passive

she’s ready to run,

with dreams that inspire

to actually become!

 

The sun still is shining, the rain will still fall,

but she has become the valiant, the One!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Honours blessing

Heart’s that can be lifted upward,

yearn to see the light of day.

When they feel the Spirit’s urging,

they can breathe and so can say:

“I was drowning, scared, uncertain,

when a light shone clear as day.

Now I’m joyful, in this moment

as I dance upon my grave.’

 

Little words and fingers touching,

say that fragile trust’s been born.

Chains of shame lie shattered, silent.

Instead of shame, now, honour’s fame

sings with intimacy’s connection’s won.

Recognition is never status,

it is heart’s delighted trust

in one who gives and doesn’t run.

 

Honour’s blessing is often hidden,

as I walk life’s dusty trails.

I am living, simply giving,

who I am, with this jaded orb!

Yet the tendrils of love’s fragrance,

is a force that builds with time,

as my heart is more transparent,

and my eyes just won’t be blind.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Wisdom’s fountain

Together we’re stronger,

both “experts” and “sheep” on the run.

When added together,

I filter that blather

and find a wisdom that sums.

Sometimes,

the wisdom flows out from the science,

sometimes,

it rises within.

I dance in this mystery

while sailing through calm seas,

’till crisis stops me in shock.

My decks turn unstable,

this mind seem to quaver,

when storms roar by up above.

Yet learning form wisdom,

I sail to horizons,

while hugging tension with trust.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Will you join me

I glanced up high ,

the sky’s so blue!

It such a perfect hue!

It captures light

and then reflects

the wonder of this earth –

as if to say

it really is

a gift!

 

I stopped and heard

the wind that blew.

It tickled me

as if it knew

just how to brush my ear!

I feel alive

as with my eyes

I drink in colour’s wine

and sing!

 

I laughed within,

I think I’m buzzed!

This world is quite unique.

There’s ants and bugs,

and little ducks,

that cause my eyes to glow.

This gift of life,

I hold it high-

and dance!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Hope’s bright head

When harsh things erupt and unexpected pain slips onto the stage. I writhe in shock and wonder what I’ve lost. A voice arises blaming, so full of scorn. “I could have seen this coming if I had but been warned.” I struggle with the weight of loss, the shame and voiceless dread. I wonder how I could have been so sure and now I’m dead. My hope is cast upon the ground and writhes as life bleeds into grey.

And somewhere deep within, this crazy haunting whisper comes. That out there somewhere is  a source that can make silver out of dread. The wild thing stirs up hope’s bright head, and in the midst of pain, I hear a distant echo so beautiful that it hurts. I wince and wish it would just leave me be, I can not bear this hint of grace. This prospect of an end to strife that would make all this hardship birth a glorious life – is hardest to endure.

Mercy is all but lacking when accusations fling their spite. The searing pain of sharpened guilt flays all my heart and soul. I struggle to walk within what’s dead! My fingers pluck at lifeless frays that seem to tatter as I reach – and all I have within my grasp is hopeless dust and ashes flimsy substance dissolving even as I stare.

And then caresses brush my heart. My spirit lifts with such a start. Mystery that stirs up life’s electric thrill has leaped upon the stage. I look at eyes that hold my heart. I sense a song that speaks my grief. I feel this heart wring out my bitter dregs. I’m not alone – I find relief. This solitude’s forgotten chains have shattered loud.  I’ve awakened  as a dance begins inside my heart while silly things play wonder’s symphony.

Author – Bill Tidsbury