liturgy

by ltestonDecember 3, 2017December 3, 2017

Each awakening comes with that moment we rise to a new day.

As the imaginings of night fade with each breath of morning sun, the liturgy of our daily sabbath begins and our soul celebrates.

To know

by ltestonMarch 26, 2017

To know the beat of waves in rhythm

stripping, striking stone to sand

gasping breath and fear together

pushed and pulled in chords of love.

Prayer

by ltestonMarch 12, 2017

startled wakened in a scream

threatened breath

strangled dream

yet i lay me down again

a soul to keep

from terror ends

finding morning’s choir of love

hymns of peace

with eyes of God.

photography alexander yakovlev

Nothing really.

by ltestonFebruary 4, 2017February 5, 2017

Empty places are not alone.

They are not so quiet either-

taunting and haunting thoughts

in exploding fragments full of grace

reforming time,

taking nothing really into the soul

and finding there a divine space.

1st position

by ltestonJune 12, 2016

Cicadas fading hum meets the cool morning breeze

with a call and response litany among the usual flight of birds

except geese in formation against the wind directly pointed

while the lutheran’s sanctioned bell begs their ordered migration.

It is Sunday.

It is the day the trees dance in 1st position to know Sabbath’s touch.

photography via Stephenltyler.

Captured

by ltestonApril 24, 2016April 24, 2016

honestly

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meditation

liturgy

Each awakening comes with that moment we rise to a new day.

As the imaginings of night fade with each breath of morning sun, the liturgy of our daily sabbath begins and our soul celebrates.

To know

Prayer

photography alexander yakovlev

Nothing really.

Empty places are not alone.

They are not so quiet either-

taunting and haunting thoughts

in exploding fragments full of grace

reforming time,

taking nothing really into the soul

and finding there a divine space.

1st position

Cicadas fading hum meets the cool morning breeze

with a call and response litany among the usual flight of birds

except geese in formation against the wind directly pointed

while the lutheran’s sanctioned bell begs their ordered migration.

It is Sunday.

It is the day the trees dance in 1st position to know Sabbath’s touch.

photography via Stephenltyler.

Captured

I am so captured in telling of tales, foreign reflections reframing reveal

fears clouding my sun blocking my view

mind wondering, narrating a hurt or failed feud.

The sound of my steps meter the beat, linked to the pace of breath and repeat

Then fear unto death strikes from the south

eyes widened with terror, scales fallen off.

Captured no more, my heart in a beat

gasps with a cry and swallows a scream

free to regret, confess and relive

knowing the now was

lost once again.

Photography courtesy of Peter Corr

Each awakening comes with that moment we rise to a new day.

As the imaginings of night fade with each breath of morning sun, the liturgy of our daily sabbath begins and our soul celebrates.

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photography alexander yakovlev

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Like this:

Empty places are not alone.

They are not so quiet either-

taunting and haunting thoughts

in exploding fragments full of grace

reforming time,

taking nothing really into the soul

and finding there a divine space.

Share this:

Like this:

Cicadas fading hum meets the cool morning breeze

with a call and response litany among the usual flight of birds

except geese in formation against the wind directly pointed

while the lutheran’s sanctioned bell begs their ordered migration.

It is Sunday.

It is the day the trees dance in 1st position to know Sabbath’s touch.

photography via Stephenltyler.

Share this:

Like this:

I am so captured in telling of tales, foreign reflections reframing reveal

fears clouding my sun blocking my view

mind wondering, narrating a hurt or failed feud.

The sound of my steps meter the beat, linked to the pace of breath and repeat

Then fear unto death strikes from the south

eyes widened with terror, scales fallen off.

Captured no more, my heart in a beat

gasps with a cry and swallows a scream

free to regret, confess and relive

knowing the now was

lost once again.

Photography courtesy of Peter Corr

Share this:

Like this: