Contagious vitality

Joy that springs

and dance that flings-

this radiance of a heart that lives

aflame!

Quiet whispers

that speak of grace.

Sparks lighting up the depths-

as fireflies!

Eyes that twinkle.

Hidden sparkles

reaching past infinity –

”Being” is found!!

Vibrant and alive,

the colours blossom,

the laughter soars-

as live is lived!

Holding hands-

heads thrown back.

Contagious vitality

in tranquility.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Happenstance

What surprise-

“happenstance”

plays even in left field!

Random!

Yet it reflects the favour

that grants

what I least expect!

Even through disbelief

grace flows!

Who is out there

who knows?

Mystery meets need-

what joy!

Spirit joins my dance!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Peace in the journey

Peace for the mind appears like a matrix.

It’s pieces are tidy and loose ends aren’t frayed.

It’s beauty arises through the flowing of symmetry

that gifts my journey, paths that have clarity.

 

Peace for the heart is the warmth of embrace,

in the music of feelings that kiss healing grace.

It’s beauty arises from wellsprings of love,

that sparkle around us and shield us each day.

 

Peace for the spirit is a lake set so still.

Its infinite glory frames my essence to “be”.

It’s beauty arises from  life’s light that births,

all of the wonder of life’s fractal mirth.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Perfection

Perfection looks so different

as I try it on for size.

I stand before the mirror

and pose with what’s outside!

There are those who’re smarter still,

they’ve learned to use technology

to sketch the ideal pose.

I’ve known those who simply make

perfection stretch o’er that which is.

While others have a loftier goal

and seek to make things hide.

I chose to paint the outside,

with glitter paint so bright,

while inside me I hid and cried,

with my heart all cold and dry.

Then one day I heard  the muse,

simply and profoundly say –

perfection’s best is simply met

in grace’s mercy healing stream –

transparently – without a fee.

I’m made uniquely,

there’s really only one of me.

The value found is not in clones,

but in my own delightful joy,

living fully “me” and now made whole.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

When I am seen

When I am seen as the one who is “different”,

I am called to shine –

the light of perspective that sees what others can’t; the hope that all can be unique!

When I am envied as the one who is “beautiful”,

I am called to weep –

For the one who has never been affirmed; who has never been sought after.

When I am fawned over as the one who is “richer”

I am called to love –

the one who is orphaned; the one who feels robbed of life’s opportunity.

When I am pushed aside as the one who is “poorer” –

I am called to give –

to the one who has lost their heart; to the powerful – who still longs for intimacy.

When I am mocked as the one who is “naive”,

I am called to laugh-

in the joy of innocence; in the wonder of freshness; in the blessing of hope!

When I am minimized as the one who is “broken”,

I am called to courage –

in the surety of process; in the freedom of healing; in the hope of grace.

When I am vibrant in the reality of who I am in the moment,

I am called to “be” –

with the one who is richer or poorer, different or beautiful, naive or “broken”,

 

and as “us” -celebrate the gift of Life.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Hope’s eyes

The consternation of a father,

as a precious child cries,

its power evokes the heavens,

as he seeks to turn the tide,

and in the dungeons of his heart,

a prisoner groans,

remembering days now past,

when pain became his home.

 

The fears that ply a mother’s soul,

as hungry toddlers ask her “why”.

She has no job that brings the dough,

and so hates her life also.

The future looms with horror’s mist,

which thickens slow and grey,

then devours greedily

as silence weeps her tears.

 

And while I seek, so weak and small,

to change this moment’s need.

I come with little in my hand ,

but eyes that see a God that breathes.

Then in this nexus peace is born,

as hope’s eyes sparkle with surprise

while arms of grace so wise

heal hearts with bread that’s real.

Author – Bill Tidsbury