Soul Beauty and the Best Dance

garden dance black and white

Take a dance out in the garden;

While the Ball continues inside,

A hidden moment with your secret love;

Faraway dreams off into the night.

 

There are moments that sparkle in life;

Pure happiness though you’re awake,

Behind you hours of life’s preparation;

Right now this memory you’ll take.

 

For a shining single moment;

The world could offer nothing more,

The dancing companion is your ideal;

Loss remains inside, behind the metal door.

 

But what if that moment stretched to always;

If your heart’s deepest love were true,

What if faraway a glistening castle;

Waits for dream’s arrival, and you.

 

You might call that future Heaven;

The fact we long for it is proof,

No matter how lumpy,  or scarred-up we feel;

When we’re loved by Him our soul beauty is real.

Decision Made For Next Release

MissFoley'sFountain

I’m going to put out my next book in September. It’s called The Time Mechanic. I remember sitting at the coffee shop in Snoqualmie, getting my original inspiration for the story. I was intrigued with the idea that a man was just sitting there one moment, ordinary to go through his days, and suddenly he became a… (Time Wizard, I originally called it- but I won’t write wizards. So, Time Lizard, my brain goes to, which doesn’t work AT ALL.)

Anyway, an ordinary man one minute, becoming the Time Mechanic the next.

Here’s the poem I begin the story with. (If I’ve posted this poem before I don’t remember it so it doesn’t count.)

 

‘Not the fairest, the wealthiest, or the mighty one full of hate;

One can have a humble profession yet discharge a noble fate;

Not the shining star at the table or the envious in the shade;

It’s from ordinary friends that Time Mechanics are made.’

 

‘Not skirmishes; nor pestilences, battles or politics;

These problems are for all humanity to fix;

Time Mechanics come to mend the world’s pain;

They arise from the steam; then find obscurity again.’

 

I’m All In

SnugHarbor

When you meet a stranger on a windswept hill

Something familiar about Him gives a thrill

of the joy when you sang a child’s lark

of fireplace and armchair when outside is dark,

And how He was connected to your first spark

of life.

~        ~        ~

Now I’m old and tired and I get scared

Not like the vague fears that used to be compared

Or the goosebumps teenagers laughing shared,

No, these fears have weight and are real,

Because I’ve lived them; I’ve discovered I’m not made of steel,

and I cried.

~        ~        ~

How wonderful to know that He’s my Lord still

While I wonder who I was; where I went and how did I kill,

That potential of faith I used to brag about,

I was going to serve, speak and take a walkabout,

I was going to bring other people home with a shout

of exquisite beauty.

~        ~        ~

Yet. No matter how I’ve let Him down,

Or how my happy bubble burst and left town,

I can’t count a lot of bobbles on my lightweight crown,

Still He loves me, I don’t how I’ve earned this basket He filled,

That one choice in Him was the right testament and will,

be the glow that redeems me.