Flagrantly I fall into mists of morning’s madness.
What is it I so crave about this pain?
Droplets of dew vie with damp, glowing forehead
and share a breath of dawning air.
Footfalls fast, no frequent, and plodding,
struggle to overcome this sluggish lump of futile flesh.
Dear God, help me to see the horizon,
because there is my end.
My beginning.
If we are made in God’s image and God sings, then we should be singing, too.
Revitalizing the Christian imagination through painting, poetry, music, and more
Ancient Wisdom for Modern Seekers
Writing from the In/Between
Spiritual Direction for Integrated Living
from liquid courage to sober courage
an anamcara exploring those close encounters of the liminal kind
Collaborating with the Muses to inspire, create, and illuminate
...in such kind ways...
"That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all thy wondrous works." Psalm 26:7
Blog for poet and singer-songwriter Malcolm Guite
…in the thick of things
REFLECTIONS & REVIEWS
Seeking that which is life giving.
… hope is oxygen
Rob's Lit-Bits 
Run well, Rob…. This race is hard work. Uphill both ways, some days. And yet, it is our end, and our beginning. Love the profound simplicity of those words.
It’s been nothing but forest fire smoke around here making running an impossibility…until this morning. I wrote this 10 minutes before running out the door (literally). I’ve always thought running has more than its fair share of metaphoric applications.
Very true.