Poems

See Luke, chapter 15 it wasn’t until I found myself begging for the privilege of feeding pigs and saw that they were a sight far more precious than I in the eyes of their citizen that I could see how far I had fallen in my own eyes: desperate for husks discarded by pigs all my pearls squandered my heart a famished wasteland suddenly riches seemed so simple: all I wanted was bread a bed a place to serve and I could see that what my Father had really given to me couldn’t be wasted hadn’t run out but lay hidden a well-spring within me the journey home felt light there was no need to rush the rubble had been cleared the way made plain the look in His eyes confirmed what I had already gleaned arms wide open air pulsating with song: no end child no end to this love —Joni Overton-Jung.

Equipped with the camera of divine Mind, using the close-up lens of Science, I zoom in to focus on Truth. I magnify good.

Today has elastic sides! Whether it be wide-blown   by winds of change, or drawn close   for inner growth, it is shaped by the hand   of divine purpose. There are times to run   and times to pause, times to listen   and times to obey, times to plan for   and times of surprise, each patterned by Soul’s   unfailing grace.

As manna for the wandering children As water from the rock did flow As the prophet fed by ravens As the widow’s oil did grow As the Psalmist’s table wild For foe and friend prepared a place, Anointing each with holy oil ’til cups ran o’er with heavenly grace. As thousands fed from two small fish As nuptial water turned to wine, So may all be fed by Your love From an endless source, divine.

The cloud rested on the ground. Very slowly, little by little,  the green of the pasture showed itself.

The Christ rebuke is “Peace, be still,” * Mark 4:39 To silence stubborn, Human will To stop the gossip, Shut the door, To halt the worry— Fear no more And when the tumult Finally wanes, A deep and settled Calm remains As thought is under God’s control, Revealing man as Pure and whole. — Carol Dismore.

Consider this —we’re made of joy— We’re not some sentience waiting to be pleased, judging conditions as propitious or alarming, manipulating circumstances, hoping that we’ll be glad instead of disappointed. Joy is what we are, and the whole grand purpose of our days sings out from here, dances in the rays of All That Is, already perfect, infinite, each moment designated to bring this essence forth as we rejoice in our unbounded worth.

Lost and alone in a crevice deep Almost too far out of reach The frail little lamb was small and weak But the faithful shepherd thought Now the ninety-nine are all just fine And staying within my view, It is the lost that I must seek To bring him back to life anew. My crooked and sturdy staff I’ve brought Which will help me lift him up To pastures green near the peaceful stream So he can frolic with his fellow sheep.

In the silent breaking  of the long spent night, With the quiet coming of the dawn’s pure light, Your senses are illumined, new, you hear Truth in your heart.   Mind’s seeing is our seeing.

The past calls out, “Look back, recount the wasted years!” But, Pilgrim, oh, do not look back. It’s trick of time to dim your eye with tears  lest today you see the way  to where the Christ may heal your fears.