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talking to myself

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personal stuff

Entries in this blog

 

God's longing

Like a moth to the flame Is the soul's pursuit of God. The flame of transformation, Love most intense, Drawing the beloved, Allowing no rest Till the treasure found That was once hidden God's longing, Hotter than the Sun, More passionate, Reaching out to cleanse, Wipe clean That which imprisons, Keeping the one in chains From the eternal fusion Of heats and wills. God calling The soul responding. Often in secret, in the depths, Hiding what God is about,

markdohle

markdohle

 

Longing

I want to see my mom he tells me, His eyes earnest The longing apparent in his gaze. She is here visiting me, Please where is she? Over and over again, An endless loop Getting tighter as time moves on, The seeking Taking up more of his time. Trying to leave, Apprehended and brought back, Like a criminal seeking escape, A leap over the wall Searching for what is desired. Knowing it is useless Yet we try to convince, To bring to the present, To perhaps save him

markdohle

markdohle

 

The love that pursues

The love of God, Unremitting in its touch, Infinite, Beyond comprehension, Experienced as cruel, The fire of purification soul rending. Everything stripped away Amid screams of anger, rage, and fear, Until unity is achieved The Will and the Heart one. Pursued by grace our crown of glory, Also horror to be endured, We are led where we do not want to go, The valley of death is our path, Running seeking escape from the love that pursues, Devouring all th

markdohle

markdohle

 

Visit with William

Visit with William He looked at me with sad eyes Sitting with shoulders slumped Palms open as if in supplication Just wanting to understand They why of it all. My parents, Where are they? Not here I said but far away. No he responded They were here this afternoon Please let me see them. So it goes His obsession with family long dead His mother, sister, brothers, Longing to see them Laugh and joke with them Just to be once more in their presence. You will only

markdohle

markdohle

 

Within the soul

Within the soul is the struggle fought, Deeply buried from the eyes of others. The climb into the light, Or decent into darkness, Both realities on the pilgrims journey. The road difficult Littered with failures, Wandering at times into darkness Threatening its cold touch, Feeding thoughts of despair, Self-hatred, Distain. Deeper still in quiet infinite, The sword of light Dimly shinning yet seen Pushes back the enclosing doom, Cutting to the morrow its truth,

markdohle

markdohle

 

The image shattered

The entity lay coiled, Shivering, Fetal like Upon the cold smooth surface, Colder than any worldly ice, Blacker than pitch, Its frozen depth bottomless, Cold burning like fire For any enduring it touch. Slowly, The creature black as the ice, Lifted it head Seeking to find surcease From the burdening silence Suffocating like a blanket That surrounded it. It tried to scream, But silence devoured the agony wailed. It stood, Surrounded by a grey fog, Thick, Unyielding,

markdohle

markdohle

 

The nature of evil

Hunger deep the void bottomless Seeking to devour all that comes before it, Calculating yet mindless, Cunning without true intelligence, It prowls seeking warmth From the essence of others, Itself empty of all existence Running from it nothingness Living off the life of others, Till only ruin remains A shell used up and discarded. Evil needs good in order to exist, Feeding yet never filled Seeking life from pain It hollowness eternal; Hence the unending hunger T

markdohle

markdohle

 

A place of home

We are hurled through space at great speed, In a Universe ever expanding, Racing towards nothing, The void already surrounds us, Embracing, Cold and lifeless beyond our small sphere. Upon our home we are like microbes So small are we, Yet our lives have meaning and depth. We live, Love, Suffer and die, Though in the scheme of things it is nothing at all. Yet we think, Are self-aware and seek, Knowing of the void, Our coming deaths, Asking why, How? We long n

markdohle

markdohle

 

Becoming free

Seeking to become free of the fear of what others think, takes time; perhaps a lifetime of discipline and effort to reach the goal desired. Best to do what one wants, than to not do it out of fear of others thoughts. People will think what they will, nothing to be done about it. It can be very difficult to do this; I am of course speaking from experience. It is the little things that are important, doing what is right, instead of what others think should be done. Little by little, this freedom

markdohle

markdohle

 

Endured

Letting go and letting God, Often said, Counseled, Seldom however followed. Holding tightly to oneself, To what is known firmly till death; Afraid to let go Fearful of what will follow. Walls strong and high, A prison of ones own making, Safe, Though barbed wired enclosed. Who would I be? Or what would I become, If the wire was cut And the walls came down? Is freedom so frightening, So dangerous, That the hell known Preferred to being free? Torn between he

markdohle

markdohle

 

The gift offered

Joy unfolds in waves of ecstasy, Ever mounting eternal it its expansion, Lifting up into the pulsating light, Filling the soul with overwhelming peace, Never satiated, Nor wanting. The soul’s expressing, Giving, Receiving, Infinite in its ability To absorb The gift offered. Forever emptying itself, Yet always filled. The dance, The whirling, In perfect sync With the One who leads Eternity in a moment One with the light, With all life, Experiencing simpl

markdohle

markdohle

 

Enfolding the struggle

Humanity is a precious thing, Bound by instinct true; Also present is so much more, Leading to something high, Noble, Life enriching, Or the low road leading to chaos, Madness, Destruction sought like a man in delirium. The man who makes love, Can also rape, The arms that cradle a child in tenderness, Also can turn to abuse, Love can turn to hate, Nurture at times lead to murder, Such is our walk, The struggle we face The war between good and evi

markdohle

markdohle

 

Letter by letter, word by word

Writing allows the soul to speak, Bringing to consciousness, Letter by letter, word by word, What lies beneath, The joy unspoken, Rage feared, Wisdom unknown, That would remain hidden forever, Without this divine gift. Birds sing, People write, Both giving glory To the true artist Eternal, Lavish in giving gifts.

markdohle

markdohle

 

The collective

Racial memory runs deep Branded into the psyche, A festering wound of the collective soul With rage often its only outlet, Though it may hide, Sleep, Or be forgotten for a time. The monad swallowed up Sinking into the chaotic, The desire to destroy and kill Shattering any pretense of humanity, Personal freedom chained By the rising of that irrationality Deeply buried in the unconscious of its people. Good and evil reversed With God’s voice or word Used as the fue

markdohle

markdohle

 

Satiation never achieved

Mankind lies in a bed racked with fever, Temperature rising out of control, Twisting and turning, Lasing out at those trying to help, To bring some cooling ointment, Some relief. The sickness only gets worse, Mankind’s soul racked with pain, The desire for blood and revenge An addiction sweet, Easy to partake of such a sumptuous feast, So many to hurt, rape, and kill, Satiation never achieved The hunger bottomless, Its thirst without end, The god of war’s stomach

markdohle

markdohle

 

Linear

Rational thought, Linear, clear, beautiful, Drowns in hatred, Snuffed out as if it never was, Gagged and bound, Leading too chaos, Cyclic in its progress, Leading nowhere, The eternal return, Until only silence remains, Since thought is no more, Nothingness the winner.

markdohle

markdohle

 

Swimming in the void

Some days are filled with emptiness, Swimming in a void, Dark, Neither hot, nor cold, or lukewarm, Just no-thing-ness, Going through motions With nothing underneath, Like a soul trapped in the nether world. Floating in the chill of lightlessness, Just being there, Feeling neither dead nor alive……… Then ever so slowly, Its pace cannot be hastened, Life returns, Again the void recedes, Joy breaks through; Such is the wheel of life. Wisdoms learns this lesson So

markdohle

markdohle

 

A life well lived

No longer restless, Seeking for things to do, His mind seems to be at peace, Amidst a sleep deep, Held gently in it soothing embrace, The body relaxed without movement, Waiting for the call home. A life well lived Filled with love, laughter, and friends, Prayer aplenty, Good works the fruit of a loving heart, Will soon cease, His lonely exit entering, Into the waiting arms of his beloved.

markdohle

markdohle

 

Unbidden

Unbidden it comes, Often unexpected in its appearance, Softly it comes upon its prey, Who is interested only in what is before it, Swiftly it embraces from behind Filling its victim with its gift, Given when least expected, Happiness; The fruit of an open loving heart.

markdohle

markdohle

 

Endings

Over the last few years, Edmund has led us to believe that he would soon be leaving this world, and proved us wrong. Now however he has entered a phase that I think points that this time his leave is soon in coming. His Alzheimer’s has over the years of course been worsening, and now he is in its late stages, though he can still communicate with us some. He will respond to my calling him by name, and when I pray with him he also is attentive. He still loves it when I pray the Psalms with him

markdohle

markdohle

 

Bitter fruit

Sirens wail, Children scream, People run for cover, Looking fearfully into the sky, Naked before death, That rains from the heavens. Hearts that love, also hate, Kind people turned into killers, Love of family, and country, Belief in ones faith, Leads to hatred of those outside the circle. For the aggressors No one is innocent in time of war, The key to ending of killing, and hatred, Is the knowledge, Hard to accept, That when looking into the enemies eyes, It

markdohle

markdohle

 

A larger box

Jorge (not his real name) came to see me yesterday, a friend that I have known since around 1990. He is Cuban, and from a well to do family, who have ventures in land, farming, and rental properties. Jorge is a very intelligent man, highly educated, and I presume that he is also good in handling the family business that he helps out in, though his father is still able to run it himself. Jorge has a full plate when it comes to some of the issues that he is dealing with in his life. He has a

markdohle

markdohle

 

Then there were none

As I was watching CNN yesterday, feeling hopeless about the escalating situation between Hezbollah, and Israel; an image was suddenly thrown onto the screen, an image violent in its portrayal of a tragedy not yet hours old. It showed 20 men, perhaps a few more or less, the exact number I don’t remember; dead, lined up on the side of the road. They were of all ages; young to some who seemed old enough to be Grand-fathers. The horror of the image came from the silent presence of all these bodie

markdohle

markdohle

 

The weariness of it all

Mankind is weary of war. The weak, and lowly, Those who have no one to protect them, Women, Children, the old, without a shield, Waiting for ‘it’ to happen, A bullet, A sudden explosion, Ripping apart lives and bodies without mercy, Young men and women in their prime, Full of life and vigor, Strong and brave, Those who take up arms, Each thinking their cause is right, Committing acts unheard in times of peace, Tortured, and torturer, dancing in perfect sync, They f

markdohle

markdohle

 

Mercy

I often wonder why it is so easy to write about pain, sorrow, struggle, and strife. I know that there is much of the above in the world, and I would suppose most of us, if perhaps not all, are often part of this drama, that makes up the pain of the world. Its weight is heavy, burdensome, to the point were death is longed for by those who get the brunt of its crushing power. No one is free from this; even the so called rich, the carefree, have an inner burden that they also must carry, it is j

markdohle

markdohle