Windows … Do You Look? Or Do You See?

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“Church of My Father”

Colours bleed in

Painting the walls and souls

Of those who wait

In hope of redemption.

Humility sits with Patience

Steadfast, beneath windows

Lovingly created

By hands of man

For the glory of God.

Colour weeps softly on weary shoulders

And burdened souls,

Compressing the pain

Of implied imperfection

Between stone walls and

Ambiguous lines of ancient texts.

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Life pulsing reds

And the dignity of purple proudly

Adorn in folds the human suffering,

Anguish of the ages

Etched into glass faces,

That await absolution with certainty, in the

Vibrant shades of faith.

The greens flow with time,

And the blues sigh and whisper,

Muffled stories that

Speak still,

In reverent moments.

Hands wrung in hope,

Clasp for strength, pray for understanding,

Tithe the price, await the law…

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Gold towers in judgment

And looks down amidst the brown hues

Of a rod for a back

Or a place to kneel.

Cream and orange chastise

with tenderness

Where pink caresses with love and

The lure of forgiveness.

Reverence disguises

The fear of a Father’s wrath.

Pomp and circumstance

Rites and rituals,

The longing for understanding…

The burden of humanity…

The artist paints the journey of the soul

The martyr and the victim,

Bound by walls of stone

And hardwood frames,

Steepled ever upwards in search of the divine,

Like manmade hands in eternal prayer,

Fingers pointing away from the truth.

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“Church of My Mother”

Colours drift in

From all sides

And paint the space and souls of those

Who seek their own redemption.

Gaia dances with Time,

Artists enduring, through windows

Lovingly created

By the hands of God

For the glory of mankind.

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Colours rain on weary shoulders

And unchain the spirit,

Releasing pain

Illuminating perfection

In pools of vain prayers dissolving.

Beyond aspiration,

Understanding awaits,

With no walls,

No constraints, no expectations.

No words.

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The art of the seasons,

Unframed by doctrine,

Life giving reds, glory skies,

And purple sunsets flowing,

In folds of nature’s creation,

Where time forgives and heals

What man struggles to understand.

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Glass faces shatter and melt

Rigid no more,

Revealing moments of truth.

Green flows with life,

And the blues whisper and sigh,

On the breeze,

In stories that ripple across time,

The threads that weave a trembling horizon

Into a circle of belonging.

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Reverent moments offering

A glimpse through windows

Past and future.

Hands release and fall

Free at last to give and receive.

Gold lines the heart instead

Without judgment,

As earthly hues with feet commune

And invite knees and shoulders to rest.

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Cream and orange delight with tenderness

Where pink and crimson caress the senses,

With love and the realization that

Forgiveness

Is the gift you give yourself.

Reverence emerges from within

A Mother’s love – moments and magic

Music and vision – the gift of understanding.

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The artist paints the journey of the soul

Unbound by walls or lines,

Sans martyrs or victims,

Only seasons, ebb and flow…

A cathedral transparent and alive

Like an open heart,

Pulsing,

Breathing

Inviting, the tithe to creation

Our very breath

The communion, inhaled,

Flowing ever inwards to reconnect

With the divine.

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The poems above were inspired by some quiet time spent in a little local church, one of the oldest and most beautiful in the region, where the light flooded in through magnificent stained glass windows, telling stories of old and inspiring thoughts anew…… I could not help but compare the two churches in my life – one the traditional structured set of ideals that we are given from birth by those around us, and the other, an unlimited sacred space we discover in nature as we continue seeking along life’s journey….. two spaces where the colours and the truths emerge to annoint and liberate us ….  it’s a personal choice which church resonates within us…..

Perhaps it is all about the windows and how we “see” through them….

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“Seeing”

They were the eyes of the church

Like windows to the soul

Staring flat and dark and lifeless

No light within at all.

There was no invitation

No promise, warmth or grace

Just blank, unblinking windows

On a stony ancient face.

But still I felt a longing

To search and know some more

I breathed in deeply, then gave a sigh

Opened the old church door.

I stepped into a different world

A whole new point of view

For the cascades of incoming light

Painted stories in every hue.

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The windows that seem so empty

From the outside looking in

Held the most vibrant blaze of passion

That I had ever seen

This revelation of colour

When seen behind these eyes

Revealed a beauty that outsiders

Could never realize.

A rainbow wash illumines

This sacred alchemy

The light through stained glass windows

Awakens colours here in me.

I breathed in all the silence

Yet my heart could hear a choir

My spirit danced while my artist heart

Knew inspiration’s fire.

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I felt those ancient secrets

Whispered in the solemn air

Shifting from witness to belonging

Between the there and here.

Looking out through other’s windows

Might seem difficult to do

But I felt the gifts as I embraced

Another’s inner unique view.

I stand outside the old stone church

And gaze back at those eyes

Somehow a light glimmers within

A secret knowing, calm and wise,

And though the windows appear the same

Something has changed for me

The more I look through other’s eyes

The more that I can see.

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