Poetic Inspirations from UIL Member John W. Jessen

 

Cut Clean –
Don’t Be Mean!

Oh, to dance the Dance

upon life’s cutting edge,

that most precarious,

yet enticing ledge.

From there we can see

how things come to be

and how subtle slips

can slice them to shreds.

 

Dance!

My eternal quest will be

learning to dance,

an ever more beautiful dance,

upon the tight rope of the moment.

 

Dipped

When you let go,

Do you fall down,

or fall up?

It all depends upon

that to which you cling,

that into which you feel

you are currently dipped,

and your willingness to float.

 

Fusion Power

However long my leash may be,

I have come to see

that I am tethered to the moment.

There’s nowhere else to BE.

 

Past and future are fused in this moment.

It’s the point from which they spring,

and what I see in front of me

depends on what I bring.

 

Will it be lack, limitation and fear

or sufficiency, opportunity and confidence?

All,

in balance,

in a dance,

embracing.

 

Gone Fishin’

The goal of the faithful

is to see a Divine Reflection

shining back at us

in the face of everyone we meet.

With that, we have the power to

make our way to Heaven.

Because, if we fish

for the best in everyone,

then we and they

will find it.

For the best is in everyone,

in every situation,

waiting to be found.

 

Nature’s Flow

Nature, in a vapor state,

hangs suspended, here within,

and from it comes the stuff

of all that has ever been.

 

Ideas come sprinkling

from the silent sky

above the land

where our minds dwell,

like shimmering snowflakes,

mirror bright,

falling sublimely

from the clouds in the sky

above God’s green earth.

 

Let our hearts be open

like the rivers, lakes and streams

to the good ideas that will melt and flow

to the ocean of our dreams.

 

Nothing ?

What can be said of this

un-nameable, inexplicable Enlivening Principle

that encircles and quickens everything,

the substance of Suchness?

Nothing!

Nothing but what we do with it.

There’s plenty of time.

Now is not forever,

but IT is Forever Now.

Choices, choices … Loving Choices …

A Loving Choice is no guarantee,

but it is a requirement.

 

Sailing On High

Tongues drawn

Through the Living Water,

Wishes unfurled

To catch the wind,

The Spirit

Is our rudder

As our voyage

With God begins.

 

Tailor Made

See the Pattern of Life,

woven into God’s boundless tapestry,

measured in moments,

its free, ever-growing edge blowing in the wind.

All life, all everything, is cut

from the same bolt of fabric,

ours to tailor as we will.

Am I cutting the pattern

that’s printed, moment by moment,

on the fabric of my life

with a scissors or a knife?

It’s only a moment thick

and a moment long.

A scissors’ blades engage

from both sides at once, moving together,

baring against one another,

each lifting the other’s edge to meet the work,

giving up a bit of themselves, bending,

as the cut advances.

At the point of their engagement,

left and right disappear.

There is only here.

Where to next?

It’s tailor made.

 

Sweet Temptation

My words, my verses, are intended to be

teasing, tempting trailers to a movie

I know for certain dwells within every listener,

waiting for them to push “PLAY”.

Not my movie, their movie about their part

in the Divine Unfoldment of a Heavenly State.

What turns did they take,

what bends will they make,

as they do their part to shape it?

 

The Edge

Walking near the edge is precarious;

upon coming to know that I am the edge

that carves the shape of things

as they are for me,

it becomes an entirely different matter,

Divine Matter.

 

The Pieceful One

It’s all a collection of autonomous “ones,”

from atoms to galaxies,

united in the cooperative display

of God’s creative power. . . .

and ours, as God’s Substance—

Tools—

 for Love’s Expression.

I am a piece of The One.

I am at Peace with The One.

I am the Peace of The One.

I am The One.

I Am.

 

The Spider’s Lesson

Are the lunching spider

and the fruit-filled fly fulfilled

as the spider taps the well of life

and not a drop is spilled?

But there is no vengeance

in the spider’s bite,

only a grasp of love

for life.

And as the spider spins

her lacey web,

silver strands of faith

before us spread.

In seeing the potential

of the pattern that she shows,

the tender trap of love

becomes ours to throw,

round and round

and on we go.

But if, by chance,

I should pass and break it,

she will not complain;

she’ll get to work,

she’ll eat it,

and start it all again.

Such is ours to do.