He Came in the Quiet

Before the world took breath in morning song,

the promise kindled patient as a seed in winter,

a whispered covenant folded into the dark.

Prophets held the word like a lamp,

waiting on the hinge of time.

An angel bent the sky and spoke a name,

and a humble home became the ear of heaven.

She heard the world rearrange itself 

a promise pressed into her womb,

a grave expectation turned to blossom.

There was no heraldry in the place of birth,

only the hush of ox-hum and the close, warm breath

of ordinary lives. A manger cradled holy poverty;

swaddling cloths wrapped the infinite in smallness.

The King came not with drums, but with a mother’s lullaby.

Outside, the hills kept watch as shepherds trembled,

and heaven spilled its plain light across their fear.

Angels poured a chorus into the night:

not a song of judgement but of mercy’s arrival,

a proclamation: peace to the searching, goodwill to the small.

A star, relentless and true, cut a path through history,

leading strangers with foreign feet and bowed gifts

to kneel where a child lay gold for sovereignty,

frankincense for prayer, myrrh for what sorrow will demand.

Even the wise were undone by the holiness of simplicity.

This is the mystery: heaven stooped and took a breath we could touch;

the Word folded into flesh, speech made kin with skin.

Not to astonish the mighty, but to redeem the ordinary 

to stitch grace into the seams of daily bread,

to make a home of the human heart.

Listen: the cries of that night still cleave to the world,

a clarion for the lost, a lantern for the weary.

In the soft circumference of that newborn cry

we find the map back to ourselves. to mercy, to courage,

to a love that keeps its vows across centuries.

Come, then, with open hands and unguarded hearts;

receive the gift placed in lowly sight.

Let the manger teach you the economy of grace:

what is greatest arrives as smallness, and strength as gentleness.

Walk from that stable into the cold world warmed anew.

For the miracle of Christmas is not only birth,

but the daring of God who chooses to dwell among us 

Emmanuel, God with us, that we might not be alone.

And so we lift our imperfect songs into the sky:

not merely to remember, but to be remade.

The Gifts of Christmas

The gifts of Christmas come wrapped in light,

In swaddling love on a silent night.

A child so tender, born in a stall,

Bringing salvation, the greatest gift of all.

The gift of hope, in the star that shone,

Guiding the wise to a manger throne.

In the darkest night, it glimmers bright,

A beacon of peace, a promise of right.

The gift of joy, as angels sing,

"Heaven has sent its newborn King!"

Their songs proclaim through the skies above,

A Savior is born, a gift of love.

The gift of grace, unearned, yet free,

Redeeming souls for eternity.

Through nail-pierced hands and a thorn-crowned brow,

The child redeems, even here and now.

The gifts of Christmas, eternal, divine,

Transcend all treasures that sparkle and shine.

Wrapped not in ribbons but in mercy and care,

A love everlasting, beyond all compare.

This season, remember these gifts so true,

They shine in the hearts of me and you.

For Christmas is more than the presents we see

It’s God’s endless gift of love to thee.

The Twilight Between Worlds (An Ode to the Body’s Last Secret)

O quiet vessel, once thunderous with breath,

Now stilled beneath the velvet hush of eternity.

The pulse that sang of triumphs and tears has faded,

Yet something, unseen, unsurrendered, stirs

In the cathedral of your stillness.

Death, it seems, is only the body’s bow,

Not the soul’s final curtain.

Life does not end, it unravels,

Gently, reverently, like a scroll in God’s hands.

Each cell releases its hymn, each nerve its memory,

As the spirit, shy as dawn 

Rises from the ruins of the flesh.

The brain, that palace of thought, falls quiet;

Its stars dim one by one,

But beyond the darkened dome,

A greater light begins to burn.

The heart yields its throne of rhythm,

The faithful organ of mortal love 

Yet love itself, untethered, ascends.

The organs rest, the muscles slacken,

The breath departs…

And still, within the soft rebellion of the cells,

Life whispers to itself: “Not yet.”

Scientists call this the twilight of death,

But the soul calls it crossing.

Between pulse and peace, there is a bridge of wonder,

A tender trembling where the eternal wakes.

Even as the cornea glimmers its last reflection,

The spirit beholds its first horizon.

White blood cells hold their post a while longer,

As if protecting the departing traveler

Until heaven takes the shift.

Oh mystery of divine design 

That even decay can be holy.

That the body, in all its frailty,

Should cradle eternity’s secret in its marrow.

Each dying gene sings its last psalm,

And the spirit, luminous, unshaken.

Hears the echo and answers: “I am.”

O beloved dust,

You were never meant to vanish,

But to change your shape in the hands of God.

What the grave calls ending,

He calls awakening, transitioning.

For the Creator wastes nothing 

Not the breath, not the heartbeat,

Not even the silence that follows.

Alas, as the flesh dissolves into the hush of time,

The soul steps forward, barefoot in light,

Leaving behind its brief and broken shell 

A letter of love addressed to the earth.

The wind reads it. The stars remember.

In that twilight between worlds,

Where death pauses to listen,

Heaven opens its arms

And whispers back the body’s final plea:

“Not yet? Then come.”

And in that sacred moment 

When surrender becomes ascension,

And silence becomes song 

The soul, at last,

Goes home.

Lord, Teach Us to Pray

O Lord, teach us to bow before Thy throne,

With hearts laid bare, before Thee alone.

Guide our whispers, our joys, and our pleas,

To rise as incense, borne upon the breeze.

Teach us to pray with faith that believeth,

Through every storm, Thy hand still weaveth.

When words fail us, and silence remaineth,

Let our sighs be the music that sustaineth.

O Lord, teach us to pray with gratitude pure,

For mercies each morning, steadfast and sure.

In sorrow or triumph, through darkness or day,

Let trust in Thy wisdom light our way.

Teach us the tongue of love and grace,

To seek Thy presence, to see Thy face.

Make prayer the rhythm of our daily song,

A lifeline of hope when the days grow long.

Lord, teach us to kneel with hearts made anew,

To pour out our praise and rest in Thee true.

In every prayer, may Thy will hold sway,

Forever and always Lord, teach us to pray.

Charity: A Flame of the Soul

Not in the clink of coins alone,

Nor in the hands that give a stone

Charity breathes where hearts ignite,

A flame that turns the dark to light.

It speaks no boast, it seeks no praise,

It walks in quiet, hidden ways.

It lifts the fallen, feeds the weak,

And finds the words the silent speak.

It is the thread in beggar’s cloak,

The balm on wounds that pride once broke.

It is the tear a stranger dries,

The food that multiplies and flies.

No law can bind it, none restrain

The grace that flows from others’ pain.

For Charity is love in deed,

A soul that answers every need.

It asks not why, nor who, nor when,

It heals the hearts of broken men.

The gold it gives is not of earth

But kindness, courage, hope, and worth.

Give and let your giving glow

In secret streams the world may never know.

For what you give in love, lives on

A light long after you are gone.

Returning

I walked too far beneath a sky

That knew my name but watched me lie.

The stars, once bright with whispered songs,

Fell silent as I wandered wrong.

The path was stone, the light grew thin

Each turn a gate I entered in,

But never out. The wind would warn,

Yet I mistook its cry for scorn.

I wore the dust, I drank the dark,

I chased a flame that left no spark.

My name grew hollow in my chest

A weightless word, a guest unblessed.

But morning does not come with noise

It breaks in hush, in hush, not voice.

One step, then two, the earth grew kind,

And shade gave way to breath and mind.

No trumpet called, no curtain tore,

No hand reached out to mark the door

Yet there it stood: a house aglow,

Its walls still warm with long ago.

I knocked, or thought I might have dreamed,

The threshold hummed, the silence beamed.

And when it opened though none spoke

The burden fled, the silence broke.

Not scolded, not explained, just held

As if the time away had dwelled

Not as a crime but merely space,

Between the light and its own face.

Now every step I took away

Becomes the note in this new day.

And though I strayed, I now belong

To hearth, to hush, to ancient song.

When Shadows Fall

When shadows fall and silence creeps,

And loved ones weep in bitter heaps,

When laughter fades and breath is still,

And hearts are crushed against their will

Oh, Death! You thief with icy hands,

You break apart life’s fragile strands.

You steal the smile, the voice, the light,

And leave us grieving through the night.

We dress in black, we cry, we pray,

We ask why joy must slip away.

Each tear we shed, a song unsung,

For dreams now lost, and years too young.

The room feels cold, the world seems bare,

A ghost of what once danced with care.

No comfort holds, no words make right,

The sudden plunge from day to night.

But wait

In sorrow’s depth, a whisper grows,

A truth the aching spirit knows:

That death is not the end, but door,

A crossing from the less to more.

A veil is lifted, not a wall,

A rise beyond the mortal fall.

For what is sown in pain and dust

Shall bloom in light, in love, in trust.

The soul unchained from earthly frame

Returns to where it once it came

To skies unscarred, to peace untold,

To wonders no eye can behold.

So let the tears fall if they must,

But hold no fear within your trust.

For death, though dark, is not defeat

It’s where the soul and heaven meet.

And when my time draws gently near,

I’ll smile, not tremble, shed no fear.

For though this body turns to clay,

My spirit shall be on its way

To life that’s deeper, love more wide,

Beyond the reach of time and tide.

Oh Death! You once wore shameful shroud,

But now I praise you, clear and loud.

For in your grasp, I’ve come to see:

You are the gate to being free.

Come, Let Us Worship

O come, let hearts in chorus rise,

To lift a song that shakes the skies

A joyful noise, both loud and true,

To praise the God who carries through.

We enter in with grateful song,

With psalms that to His name belong.

The Rock of Ages, firm and wide,

Our Refuge where we long abide.

The Lord is great no throne above,

No power greater, none more love.

The King above all gods and pride,

Whose voice the mighty stars abide.

He holds the deep and silent lands,

The ocean depths are in His hands.

The hills, in strength, rise at His word,

And echo back the name they’ve heard.

The sea He formed with perfect grace,

The dry land shaped, each line in place.

Creation sings with holy flame,

Each leaf and stone bears out His name.

So let us worship, bow, and kneel,

Before the One whose touch we feel.

The Lord, our Maker, kind and just,

Who leads the flock with patient trust.

We are His sheep He calls, we know,

His voice is peace, His way is slow.

If today His voice you hear,

Let faith arise and cast out fear.

O come, let praise be not delayed

The path of joy is humbly laid.

In stillness, let our spirits rise,

To worship Him who never dies.

Wonders of the Universe

Beneath a dome of endless night,

The stars ignite with ancient light,

Each spark a tale, a whispered lore,

Of worlds beyond our own explore.

The galaxies in spiral grace

Drift softly through the velvet space,

A ballet vast, serene, profound

Where silence sings without a sound.

Dark matter weaves its unseen thread

Where even light is gently led,

And time, that river slow and wide,

Bends round the curves where black holes hide.

On comets’ tails and solar winds,

The story of the cosmos spins;

With every burst and every flare,

Creation breathes through empty air.

What mysteries the void contains

From quantum dance to Saturn’s rings!

Yet in this vast, eternal sea,

A thought takes shape: how small are we?

And yet, we gaze with daring eyes,

We map the stars, we question why

A speck of dust with minds so bold,

To chase the dark and grasp the cold.

Let us wonder, evermore,

Beyond the sky, from shore to shore;

For in each glance, each dream unfurled,

We touch the edges of the world.