Advent Calls

In the depths of the heart

a voice whispers

awaken, O Man, awaken

the first light is lit

the world awaits

the maidens have trimmed their wicks

and still you slumber

awaken to the worlds needs

awaken to the song of humanity

the cries of the innocent

that haunt our souls

the angel speaks softly

in a voice of thunder

Wake, O Man, Wake.

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Church Fair

I sit here listening to the copier 

relentlessly working

piece by piece the sheets fly out

while in the background 

there is the bustling of people

bringing in their oblations

of decorated trees 

baskets filled with their sacrament

to be bought and sold

to a people lost

all the while

prayers go up into the air

as Emmanuel approaches

reminding us that this temple

is not about silver and gold

but a place for prayer

in the darkening days

as we seek salvation

from the busyness we create

hiding from our own failings

in the glitter and bright lights

of seasons too short

awaiting love’s arrival

opening closed hearts.