Storms

“What is rest?” I asked.

I heard no voice as my mind raced seeking answers!

“How do I still my mind?” I asked.

I had no peace as I wrestled to be still!

“How can I find peace?” I cried.

I found fear as my storm of despair raged wild!

Undone, I turned from deep within, to sense the storm I could not fight.

A voice said – “I am here! Peace – be still!”

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Why?

Why in a world of so much grace -does desperation thrive?

When men can fresh design some human gene, “one small child” abounds across the globe, still caught in suffering’s bloody hate.

Billions in gold sit in bank’s deep holds, guarded darkly from any so bold to ask for food as babies cry.

Creative genius works to frame some new design to save the world, yet only those with cold hard cash are taken in within the fold.

Why in a world where many seek to protect mother earth from harm and filth, we find her children dying beneath the crush of arms bought from men whose simple vice is making gain?

Innocence is lost when a child seeks firewood outside a camp, while strong men guard with arms the post that politics says defends the weak.

Children sweat and chemicals burn while things extracted grant others multiplayer reality to fight boredom’s sorrow.

Mothers cry and fathers rage as one small child burns with heat, still waiting for the tender grace of one small dose of medicine – out of reach of poverty’s cage.

Why in a world where freedom lives and movement is guaranteed amongst a people strong and brave, do millions tread wrapped up in chains bound into servitude and violence’s pain?

A child dreams of living well, within a home with roof and chair, a bed with one simplistic cover – safety and peace that lasts all night!

A young girl dreams of a doctor’s voice guiding her as she learns to give the gift of life to others dear who wait for hope and healing hands.

A young teen dreams of discovery’s awe, as hope is opened for this earth’s redemption, while all around the tentacles of vice removes the dream and injects a shame.

Why, when so many can see the pain, do systems grind fine the ones who resist the lies?

Students stir awake and cry injustice, yet quickly lose their voice as promotion woos them sweetly.

Idealists convene to plan and scheme and then they silently diffuse their cries as we rationalize that people trapped in prisons hate, have only themselves to blame.

Living calls for action until I’m swamped by distraction’s fragrance that sings a dream that never grants discomfort.

Why?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Integrating experience

Miracles have happened before my eyes!

I have felt body parts shift beneath my hand. When the unusual happens, our minds can’t comprehend. Yet there is that sense of wonder that answers a deep longing buried deep within. Our western mind is trained to query that which hasn’t been seen before. This western mindset denies that anything spiritual even exists!

Yet I have seen!

Others hear my stories and listen with quiet eyes. There is polite acknowledgement and yet uncertainty makes questions die. Why does curiosity die when something strange occurs?

We would rather live without wonder than challenge core assumptions!

So many lives are trapped with pain and questions chew within. Answers aren’t found in textbooks, when a spirit aches within. Hope is real and is found in a dimension close at hand.  To reach out and wonder is the first step in a journey of delight.

Yes, I have known!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Something bigger

Am I confident? Do I know how all fits in my  scheme sublime? Do I order this life and control all my days?

  • To organize and structure things unexpected and new. So I arrange unpredictable and frame times so small.
  • To make lists and shift things so life moves in step.  So I  rest confident knowing I won’t drop the ball.
  • To be practical and focused with clear goals I achieve. My enemies are buried I can stand atop my wall.

Why don’t I feel? Why can’t I see?

As I’m troubled by mysteries that cry faintly in dreams.

 

Am I curious? Does wonder intrigue me? Do questions open vistas to crazy things unknown?

-To ponder regarding the colour of blue, that shines in the sky and fills me with light.

-To sense a small child all twinkly and bright, inquisitive with wonder, chuckling with delight.

-To float in the ocean, and sway in the surge, of forces unseen and vastness of might.

Where is my place? Who am I ?

As i sense something bigger that baffles my soul.

 

Am I here in this realm? Am I there so surreal? Does my mind capture essence when spirit lives aware?

  • To perceive with senses that thrum and seem jolted, that shift vision to places where only angels dare.
  • To be drawn in, to be loosened while frames disappear, so that words become formless and brightness is so much more than glare.
  • To be known and knowing within intimacy’s embrace and feel love’s explosion taken past time and this “where?”.

Why am safe? Why am I laughing?

As I live in awe loving eternity’s surprise!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Mountain town

Cobbled streets, hillsides steep, a mountain town is up or down!

Pouring rain, leaping gutters, rushing waters clean this town.

Vultures soar, wind sweeps clouds, from the heights the mundane shrinks in size.

Birds that sing, trees that bow, life’s exuberance wakens me to rise.

 

History steeped; buildings speak – of times before technology.

Cathedral rises, old claims shout, grating new realities.

Saint’s procession, draws the dancers, gaining promised hope’s deliverance.

Exhaustion reigns, pain’s endured, while freedom’s gift lies in abeyance.

 

Fireworks boom, fiesta laughs, as families spend the day in song.

Evening strolls, hands held dear, couples avoiding summer’s throng,

Child’s laughter, safety’s theme, village shouts we have this in common.

Quiet listens, bird chirp ends, dreams appear when normal is forgotten.

 

Peace is real, hope is shared, when faith is seen in eyes that shine.

Pain departs, startle’s real, when spirit’s roar draws a line.

Something felt, change that’s seen,  creates a contrast with dogma’s creed.

Sweetly still, enjoying life, promotion’s grace stirs mountain souls to lead.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Ancient echoes

A man who falls and never rises is a man dead before his time. Pride really does come before a fall, and then a shattering encounter with frailty lashes us to die. So men wander spent and drunk, always dying, never dead. Caught between the living  hell of knowing and the oblivious death of stupor. Can hope ever live when faced with such a death?

A man swiftly sees a generous soul as a place to weep and wail; hoping for a small deposit to aid the journey down. Eyes that see in love, stop a hiding heart. Defences leap and distance quickly gains reprieve, while aching ears hear mercy and compassion’s hopeful song. Honour’s   call seems out of place. Can anything penetrate stupor’s haze?

Spirit’s song sings a deeper note than any drug can dare. Hidden treasures deep within hopeless castle’s depths stir to wakefulness. Ancient echoes of life’s full bloom, resonate within these dungeon corridors. A forgotten fragrance rises invading space and time as an ancient soul wakens up to life’s creative possibility. Can it be?

Tears pour down as memory’s journey opens wounds locked in silent agony. Hope comes uninvited to the fore. Struggle rumbles and whispers counter seditious lies that would hint life could once again be held as dear. In the balance, a future leaving legacy for dreams or the rapid slide to old oblivion. Who can win if one is weak?

Mysteries are part of darkness and this light. What seems dark can only be full of light if love’s transparency is loosed. Desperate cries that mumble unspoken grief rise before a fountain that so easily loosens deadly chains. Impossible is only found within the dark. Light plays wild and paints a dream of transformed joy. Can I believe?

Author – Bill Tidsbury