For This I Cannot Sleep

For this I cannot sleep,
For this I cannot rest—
My mind races to be with Him,
And finally sleep comes at once.

For this I cannot sleep—
What is this, my offering,
To God with all good grace?
Am I enough to run this blessed race?

For this I cannot sleep—
One step, then another,
On the pavement my feet go,
On they run, run to spread the word.

For this I cannot sleep—
I, a new Pheidippides, run—
To proclaim the Good News you seek,
"Yes, the battle has already been won!"
For this I cannot sleep!

To whom should these words spread,
If not to all, to all from the Head—
My breath remains heavy—
My muscles ache so weary—
For this I cannot sleep!

For this I cannot sleep,
A world lost, believing the lies
A world found, found in a mirage—
A world that has always defied—
For this I cannot sleep!

Is this a dream?
—a nightmare?
Is this reality—
Fought from freedom?
For this I cannot sleep!

A world where love is not love
And "truth" is what you make—
The world asleep and I awake—
For this I cannot sleep!

Shipwrecked

A thousand prayers shipwrecked,
But not without love or thought, nor even deed...
I pray, we pray, for a world without any other need,
A world without the feeling lost,
The knowledge that each is completely and fully loved.

The tide comes in, wave after wave...
The crash of wave, the egress of love...
The crash of wave, whisper of what is now gone.

Shoals of doubt, left me here...
Here, to ponder what—who—has gone...
What drove them from these shores?

These shores were where I was to land,
But those landing parties have gone,
Far have they left—now only silence.

Page to page, these words flip,
An old dusty tome, a ragged binding,
These words—they captivate.

Words of passion, of concern,
They settle to form in place
Here and there, sent forth;
These words, they go forth.

How are they to have meaning,
These words that were not mine first?
"Perfect love casts out fear..."

Or another, from the Garden,
Where His blood first was shed—
"If Thou will... Take this cup from me... thy will be done!"
Quench not my own but the Other's thirst!

The waves wash over—
Salt enters the wounds—
How deep does the fear go!

Let my words be yes, be fiat—
Let these words speak for me, for her—
Let them settle deep within our souls!

Work within us a story already told!
Work within us a "Yes" among a multitude!
Work within us our own Magnificat!

These my words, yet still,
Ring hollow, without full meaning
'Til the Other is beside me...
Beside me to love only You.

Until then, I remain shipwrecked,
Finding no rest, finding only You.

Neither Love nor Truth Impose Themselves...

"He is Love and Truth, and neither love nor truth impose themselves; they knock at the door of the heart and mind and, where allowed in, they bring peace and joy." - Pope Benedict XVI

Yes, there is no imposition of love and of truth. It cannot be. And yet, this world is so devoid of both, love and truth—love in truth and truth in love—what beauty is there when beauty in the two together is not separated? It cannot be my question alone. One, two, hundreds, thousands—all of us—ask this question in our hearts and, whether or not we admit it—some do—to God. Simply a vocation of love is not enough. It must be rooted in the Truth. And, yet, I still wrestle with all of this. This rise, this fall.

How is it, this world with its unrest, its angst and hatred, cannot see its connectedness? We are all one! Why not the unity, the solidarity of hearts and minds? Why cannot we put down the differences, the hatreds, the bombs, the terrors? Cannot we live as one? This world is too much, too much to be itself alone. It cannot be all. Cruelty has its end. Hatred has its end. Death has its end. It is not all.

And this is where the testimony to Love and Truth—love in Truth and truth in Love—comes to pass. It comes to raise body and soul from the depths, from the deepest recesses of heart and mind. It comes to bind us to the vocation set. It comes to bind us to both truth and to love. It anchors hearts on the steadfast truth found in Christ; it gives the soul another way.

It gives the soul its invitation to do the same and to never look back. And this is grace, grace from God: to accept the invitation to love in truth.

Peace be with you.

Dear Woman

Dear woman,
Bring me home,
Bring me back,
Back to where I belong.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

Let me come in,
Out of the cold,
Out of the dark.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I am not perfect,
I am not monumental,
No, I am poor.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I cannot promise the world
Or all the riches in it,
Only the love needed,
Needed to say "Yes"
As you say "Yes."

Dear woman,
Let me in.

Let us serve Him,
Let us live with His Love,
Let us turn to His grace.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I come not to conquer,
I come to live,
To win with you the blessed race.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I will wait for you,
In the cold,
In the dark,
In the veiled courts,
I will wait for you.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

My song is not boastful,
My song is not conceited,
My song is not inflated,
My song goes out to you.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

My song is not my own,
For we see now in partial,
What will be later fully known,
Yet still this is my song for you:

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I know not why this chord
Replays itself, time eterne,
To bring Him ever near:

Dear woman,
Let me in.

It's the words that haunt me,
That tear from me a bone, a rib,
That makes each of us one, one flesh.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

When the perfect comes,
The imperfect will pass away,
Only these words to remain:

Dear woman,
Let me in.

Dear woman,
Bring me home,
Bring me back,
Back to where we belong.

Dear woman,
Let us love—
He will show the Way.

We Mustn't Fall in Love...

We mustn't fall in love, we must rise in it. Love is the search for truth and beauty. If it is indeed such a search, where else must we go than up, rising to the Heavens? Such things in time we learn do exist.

This world may give the appearance of running like clockwork, on its 24/7 rotation of endless schedules of always running, always on-time. However, this world runs not on the consistent humdrum of efficient interaction, but rather on everyday miracles of grace and moments of wonder and inspiration. For as the world cannot prosper without the drenching rains of doubt, it cannot blossom without the everlasting rays of Light and the roaring fires of Love, covering all of Creation. Life depends on both doubt—and through it, tested and enduring faith—as well as Love to carry on.

Life needs both the waters of doubt-tested faith to remove and the fires of Love to completely consume, not one thing or another in our lives or our world—but all! To cover all of it, the world over, in a mantle of love in an all-consuming fire... not of destruction but a mantle engulfing with a Passion, a love in its purest of forms, as gold tested in fire. So is love in its purest of forms. So the search continues for truth and beauty, for truth in beauty and beauty in truth, but the truth is it has already been found. We must only have the eyes to see it in the world in front of us. It is there. Always. Always, it is there.

Be fearless to spread this fire to the world. For in spreading this mantle, we rise in love. And this is the most beautiful thing we can do, to be fearless in the Love of Christ and to never, never turn back. To always do what most pleases Him, to do what best gives us greater intimacy with Him. We love the Other not because of vanity or self-preservation. No, we love the Other, whether in singularity of eros or magnanimity of philos and agape, because of the gift God has given to each of us, even when the road may be dry and distant and the journey seemingly lost. We love Him because he first loved us.

We must rise in love.