Let us praise even the cold.
The terrible, iron cold.
Let us give way and accept the story no more …
… that the cold holds the land in its grip.
Oh, iron cold, we love the emptiness in you.
We love the way you cannot hide the small grasses that will bring the emptiness within you to fulfilment.
We love how it is not your presence that is your strength but your acceptance.
Oh, cold, your language is not your own. We know that. We know your language is only the silence at the core of the earth talking to the sun and the stars.
And you will give way.
And we are all joyous. Summer is here already.
Accept fullness.
Rejoice.
hi, I really like this one
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Thank you! Many blessings to you!
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Dear Harold,
Thank you for sharing the fresh beauty of your reflections. So many of your words and images draw out beauty, and celebrate wholeness .” We love the way you cannot hide the small grasses that will bring the emptiness within you to fulfilment”. Today I will look for evidence of those small grasses, now blanketed by snow, but which the creatures dig down to for food, and small mice may burrow near beneath the snow.
Today there will be more singing that usual in the church I attend, and a friend will play carols to celebrate the ever-presence of the Christ idea on her baroque violin. I am grateful for a sense of ever-present Life that is reflected in the beauty of the earth and its inhabitants and extends throughout infinity and eternity as All-in-all.
I will spend time with my sister and her husband today, and share in a meal we prepared together. My two grey cats have greeted me this morning, and I have brushed them, and am grateful for their love. The soft white covering of snow blesses the forms it falls on.
Thank you for being my poet friend, and a mentor to me in how I view and move through the world.
Best Regards, Ruth Anderson Donovan artswrite@gmail.com
On 25 December 2016 at 09:42, Okanagan Okanogan wrote:
> Harold Rhenisch posted: “Let us praise even the cold. The terrible, iron > cold. Let us give way and accept the story no more … … that the cold > holds the land in its grip. Oh, iron cold, we love the emptiness in you. > We love the ” >
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Thank you for being present at the feast, with your open arms full.
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Lovely icicles. Happy holidays to you.
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Those are first class dynamited volcano healing itself icicles those are!
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