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

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To step in deep

Courage makes its home inside my head.

I never marked it’s moving in.

But one day in the silence of forgotten words,

I felt it waken and as warriors do,

with purpose and determination bright.

The stance it took tore foundations loose.

I sensed a majestic part of me

step out into the room and say-

“I feel the storm – I’ve come to shield!”

 

Desperation breathes so fierce.

I can hear its sibilant whisper

in the tumult of hard fought life.

The grinding echoes of despair

find resonance in chambers torn and bare.

The hammer blows that dash all hope,

come swiftly with intent to maim.

It chokes a child’s greatest dream

and snarls – “What made you think you could?”

 

Compassion bleeds but never dies.

It’s weird to see when you are standing by!

The heart that bleeds for those who ache,

receives an infinite supply of grace.

To step in deep, is to risk it all.

Yet in this love you are embraced.

The healing presence of hope’s kiss,

brings life to all who awake to this-

“ You are all I ever have dreamed!”

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

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

Thunder’s pulse

At times the pull of thunder’s pulse,

can shake the senses with its surge.

Wonders splashed with colours true

seem so blinding to  eyes still new,

and all around the surge of grace

dampens breath as hush takes shape

and makes the air as thick as ocean’s blue.

These times are real and open vistas pure

that say I really am alive with You.

 

At times the crazy way that people talk,

fills up my head with words of fluff.

The chatter and the busyness seems

designed to say life’s only memes!

The crazy way that movies plot

and then the games that leap and cheer,

all call my senses to deny

that peace exists and love is nigh.

The noise betrays my anxious heart

as things shriek out – “You’re never part!”

 

When suddenly, I find a  moment pure,

when in an instant bright eyes smile.

They speak of life and mystery’s glee,

enveloping me with their soul’s delight.

Anew I see, that  life is bright when hearts are free.

A child imagines, and young man grins,

the beauty invites the best of me

and all is right when dreams can be.

 

And in these eyes, I hear the vibe ,

of thunder’s roar that was outside.

The grace that drives that awesome rumble,

is the same face that sees through eyes.

I twist and see a shift in space,

to really see and not erase,

to open up to treasure’s joy

and find the seed though buried cold!

And so I feel creation’s splendour

living gritty as I taste and wonder.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Strewn jewels

Pieces.

Strewn jewels-

light’s scattered sparkle!

Hidden patterns!  Unconscious awareness!

Groping hands seek fallen diamonds.

Collecting your soul is never easy.

Grace’s anointing transforms healing’s process into beauty.

Patience’s song sings quietly in counterpoint.

Believing to rest requires immanence.

Soul’s desire meeting hope.

Gentleness grasps me!

Face down.

Promise!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Not the Same

Apples come in different shapes.

They hide behind their colours too.

Each one distinct and yet alike,

create a symphony that brings delight.

 

Mangos I have found

salute this custom so profound.

They all hang high up in a tree,

when eaten, have such individuality.

 

And then of course there is the face.

We all have one –  I think it’s grace!

Yet how it is I fathom not,

With just a smile – derail my thought!

 

And what about that sense of mirth,

It crops up with such violent birth.

It’s spasm’s quivers are quite unique.

Yet all enjoy its invasive tweak.

 

When I surprise a latin scamp,

I am amazed at backwoods imps,

they look at me from neath the table

cause I have skin that’s white not sable!

 

Women when in violence raised,

can see with dread these men who haze.

Yet both alike need someone kind,

to heal the wound they’ve been consigned.

 

Difference is a gift most sage,

It’s grace invites to end the rage.

Cause when I feel discovery’s bliss,

Love  dances out and plants a kiss!

Author – Bill Tidsbury