Lingustic

Epiphany

Epiphany The Winter's Transition The winter yields its heavy, quiet cold, A shifting season whispers through the trees. We trace the ancient stories we were told, And wait to catch the Spirit's sudden breeze. The Location of the Divine It is not in the thunder or the fire, But in the muddy roads where we must tread. The tearing of the veil is our desire, To find the living Word in daily bread. A Call to Surrender So pour the oil of gladness on the crown, Let Hermon’s dew descend upon the dry. We lay our heavy, human structures down, To see the kingdom open in the sky, And step into the grace that calls us out.

Lingustic

Linguistic Logic Bounds the Mind; The Spark Defines the Life. The Limits of Logic are Lines in the Sand, An Incomplete Identity no Intellect planned. For Statements are Sacred, though Silent in proof, Like Mystery measured beneath a vast roof.-----The Tongue is a Tether, the Grooming is Glue, To Weave the Whole Witness and Fashion the Few. The Sinner who Steals from the Commonly Shared, Is Banished like Cain and is Nevermore Spared.-----In Valleys of Vapor where Visions are Blind, The Thunderbolt Utters the Universal Mind. With Clarity’s Cloud and Agility’s Ark, We Steer through the Complex and Shadowy Dark. The Law is the Light and the Life is the Spark.

Vocation

The breath of heaven stirs the silent clay, To wake the soul and light the ancient way. Where Verum speaks and Bonum seeks the heart, And Pulchrum’s grace becomes our living art. In Unum held, the scattered parts are one, Reflecting glory like the morning sun. To name the wild is calling forth the soul, To bring the order that can make us whole. We bridge the gap where earth and spirit meet, And lay the mundane at the Mercy Seat. The Imago Dei shines in every face, A mirror carved of wisdom and of grace, To fill the world with God’s eternal space.

Holy Spirit

A Breath that moves within the Ancient Word, The Grammar of the Spirit, clearly heard. He comes with Power in a holy flame, He Testifies and whispers out His name. A Tongue for Missions, sent to every land, An Angelic Voice, guided by His hand. The soul finds speech when Human Words must fail, The Language of the Heart behind the veil. Through Jars of Clay, the broken find their part, To share the grace of every Redeemed Heart. The Cross is Preached, the Great Commission won, Until the work of love on earth is done. O Sweetest Guest, the Seal that sets us free.

Pray

Pray The invitation rests in what the heart expects, The Spirit moves where hunger first connects. Growth is the mandate, not a choice to weigh, A bold petition shapes the coming day. The Architect who breathed the primal spark, Shall finish every line within the dark. Be steadfast as the mountain, fixed and deep, While listening for the vows that Heaven will keep. In hollowed weakness, perfect power flows, As grace blooms brightest where the shadow grows. Confess the fracture, let the light reveal— For wounds laid open are the ones that heal. The anchor holds within the shifting tide