Someone completely intrigued by the transformative power of Christ. Someone determined to explore and extrapolate all possible positive outworkings of the power of the gospel of Christ. I am interested in power. I know nothing more supreme or more commanding and worthy than Chirst, the most magnificent power. The true king, forever. Humble human interested in summoning and fueling a gospel vortex. May it become blinding and incredibly obvious. May we all be claimed by the rejuevnating light of Christ!
I love the precious lamb of God, the one who keeps me calm His searing love the antidote, a soothing, holy balm I love the way He has no guards, nor bars nor shutters closed He is in fact the fount of love, of purest light composed
I love the arms that cherish me, that hold me safe and sure That cast away my burdens, taking everything impure I love the God that stands on high, the one who sees through time Each prayer to Him, each offering, a gently sounding chime
I love the lamb who died for me, who calls me home to rest Who beckons me and yearns for me to have the very best I love the lamb who knows what’s next, the future in His view Who leads me on, with endless love, and shows me what to do
I love the lamb who proves the dark to be a sorry lie His eminence above illumining the boundless sky He leads with care, with thoughtfulness, with patience and resolve Allowing every wrenched sin in Him to soon dissolve
I love the lamb that praises God the Father, proud and strong The folk below join gleefully to sing one sacred song “We love you Lord, we praise You Lord, our trusted friend and king Forever will we honour you, in every song we sing.”
The softly blowing winds upon the ocean, Whisper gently to a son of man, “Return to us, behold the azure glory, That holds the sky and sea within its span,
Look upon the rolling waves that tumble, See the dancing surf that greets the air, Marvel at the silver fishes swimming, Plunging on with glee, without a care,
See the billows of the brilliant cloud banks, Forming in the boundless crescent dome, Lit by God’s own devastating glory, This, my child, becomes your perfect home,
See the forest standing like a chorus, Singing God’s own praises through the day, See the birds and beasts about their business, Know the love that lights the land we pray,
Hearken to the rain drops as they patter, A gentle ode that fills the heart with glee, Know the wind as though he were your brother, Rising from the dust and soaring free,
Look upon the blush of red-hued sunsets, Lighting the horizon like a fire, Painted by the hand of the Creator, No greater majesty could you acquire,
Sit and know the silence of the dawn light, Forming with a golden sickle edge, Ready to embrace the day with gladness, Yet another heaven-gifted pledge,
Be with us in reverence and stillness, As the jewelled night upon her throne, Looking on in holy contemplation, The infinite parade her very own,
Aye, the cherubim become your comrades, Exaltation for your company, Know the grace of God in vast abundance, Rest in peace, be grateful and be free.”
Adam Daniel, 10.11.20 Written in memory of Layne Richardson
A star ascending to the silent sky,
The spangled heavens brightening with pride,
The caring reach of cherubim outstretched,
To greet the child of God, now beatified,
A flood of summer sunshine pouring down,
The blinding glut of heaven’s holy force,
Fashioning the soul in hues of peace,
A tapestry to match the sacred source,
Almighty jubilation fills the air,
Hosannas for the one that joins the fold,
We take you now, to see the God we see,
Aye, set aside your fleeting earthly mould,
Look back, the path is radiant with your steps,
The joy you gave to others as you went,
The beauty that you witnessed with your heart,
The gift of life so generously spent,
All fear is past, love blossoms as we go,
The prayers of those who knew you will suffice,
The call of the Creator guides us home,
The laneway wending on to paradise…
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Poem written upon hearing the news of Paul Lenzi’s passing…
I find myself in tears. Your father took the time to offer encouragement to me when I wrote poems. I was enthusiastic about his flamboyant style and often biting insight, which he was able to fuse seamlessly into an effervescent and thoughtful poetic amalgam. It was always with a sense of glee that I observed new reflections in the Lenzi kaleidoscope. I enjoyed exchanging comments and remarks with him. Please lay a flower at his resting place for me. He said it was time for eternity to collect us. May we follow his lead and discover the peace he now knows.
Exalt the lamb, the mighty lamb, the king of earth and sky Governing the heavens, e’en with rockets racing by His throne is sure, His place is set, across infinity Above the warring men below, enthroned from sea to sea.
Exalt the lamb, the peerless lamb, the ancient one on high Who harbours hell-worn souls with love, their pain to pacify His arms outstreched, in bravest love, an endless, boundless span Welcoming all spirits back to Him, the Son of Man.
Exalt the lamb, the matchless lamb, the God perfected child Calling all of heaven to enjoy His mercy mild He is the staunch conductor, aye, the leader of all things Unto the carousel of life and death He softly sings
Exalt the lamb, the gentle lamb, the hushing wind of truth The one who owns the wheeling domes of heaven, floor to roof Bow to Him, aye, sing to Him, the master and the way Let your voices rise in heartfelt gladness every day
Exalt the lamb, the deathless lamb, the genesis and end The alpha and omega fused, our ever-present friend He sees the death, He hears the woe, He knows the pain and toil But only says “I AM” again, and swings the holy oil
Spirit take each one of us, please venture down to earth Extricate the lost and give us all a second birth We look to you in faith and hope, our faces burning bright Ignite us with your sacred fire and steal us in the night…
Can you feel a warm glow on your right? The ever present light of Christ ascended, The golden temple, keeping us in grace, The place we come to humbled, one knee bended,
Hold us in Your ever burning fire, That heaven-tempered seat of intuition, That place where love redoubles in its force; The well spring that devours all inhibition,
Bravest love of all, command the skies! Make the sign that spells the Son of Man! The one to gather up the kings of earth, From every tribe and tongue and every clan,
From on high reveal the face of God, To triumph with an all-pervading view, That casts the sly accuser into chains, And sees the earth and heaven built anew,
Fuse our hearts and minds with Your pure will, And help us to endure the raging Beast, Spinning in a froth of manic rage, As he confronts the army from the east,
Keep us from the scourge of blasphemy, The vitriol against Your holy name, Keep us from the plagues and snares of death, That put our holy nature into shame,
Make the wine of Babylon run dry, No longer to defile the lips of men, “Babylon is fallen” shall we cry, As we start o’er and begin again,
Let the whirlwind idols of our day, Find redundancy against Your might, Forgive us for exalting aught but You, Pray relieve us in our sorry plight,
Make us see You now, just as You are, Towering in splendour and command, Lord of Lords, with Michael at your side, Opening the seals that grip the land,
One by one, the riders gallop out, Unseating death and Hades from their place, Reigning in the demons of the pit, Calling them to rise from their disgrace,
Fleeing millions scurry in their wake, Searching out the shaded rocks and caves, Hoping to avert the guilt of sin, That cannot brook the searing light that saves,
But the star from heaven is now cast, The trumpets sounding shrill across the air, Seven thunders brawling on the plains, With Adam’s sons and daughters in despair,
Sorcery of old engulfs the scene; The ten horned dragon fleeing his disguise, Murders and the crimes of yesteryear, Dragged up with all the truths that we despise,
One woe is past, behold still two more come, Scorpions that sting and bitter bread, Men in rampant war and strife unbound, Stricken in a panoply of dread,
But God on High, observing, flinches not, For still the hope of mercy is alive, The one that causes death to flee calls out, “From the pain of loss you shall revive”,
The Alpha and Omega fuse as one, The light of Stella Maris softly shining, The Spirit and the bride call out in faith, “Hark ye well, the Bridegroom, He is Coming”.
Adam Daniel, 22.02.16
Many thanks to Ashley Hearod for encouraging me to write this, a post inspired by her offering “The Bridegroom is Coming“.
Turned to the immaculate within, Refusing to admit the shadow soul, Sisters banded strong in holy thought, Relinquishing to Christ supreme control,
Days of pure devotion offered up, Within the silence of the stony walls, A gift of pooling stillness on the earth, Emanating through the convent halls,
Prayers and soft devotions spoken low, Rising to St. Joseph overhead, Rosaries that trace the beaded string, Worship blossoming along the thread,
Hanging there, like sunshine lost in time, The beatitude of Mary set aglow, Epitome of service and of grace, Humility that only angels know,
Let your labours sing across the land, And call us to the sacred heart of Christ, Flood us with the love that knows no bounds, The legacy of what He sacrificed,
Elevate us in your holy song, Your attitude of praise a perfect art, Build in us a heaven standing true, Bless us with the strong Josephite Heart.
My temple is the light of all creation, The brilliance of a thousand summer days, The emanation from the holy city, The miracles of earth within the blaze,
The tumbling tides of winter beaches churning, The sun-embossed horizon glowing clear, The midnight heavens spread with stars undying, The gentle flowers growing without fear,
The orange kiss of dusk upon the mountain, The perfect play of sunlight in the gloam, The loveliness of God’s eternal fountain, This I call my dwelling place, my home,
The hopeful glint of dawn light seeking sunrise, The evanescent colours through the sky, The dalliance of birdsong through the silence, The innocence of life my lullaby,
The hushing breath of wind atop the forest, The glitter of the rain upon the trees, The harmony of heaven’s tender chorus, This becomes my work, my expertise,
My temple is the light that knows no boundaries, The love that conquers every tract and time, I am the silent face of the Creator, The splendour of a thousand suns sublime.
Dedicated to Rae, Phil, Mel, Louis, Lucia and Sophia Dunstan, in memory of Peter Francis Dunstan.
Four quarters join as one, Four faces in the dark, The pieces gripped in unison, The flint struck firm to light the holy spark,
Regret departs within a jot, The faces shining true, The mixture made, the game well played, Ecstatic beams from heaven bolting through,
Exhaltant souls, but strangers fused, See clearly cross the void, The black deceiver in their midst, His unbecoming rivalry destroyed,
Implications, implications racing through the air, The talent overwhelming strong, the songsheet hid from view, But what is this? Pray listen close, The voices, plain as day, produce one song!
Michael, in a woman’s guise? The ray of light soon carving out the tears, The unimagined summoning, Rising up, to mark the coming years,
The karma pulled on subtle threads, Reeled in to make a picture of perfection, Every detail ushered up, And met anon with heaven’s benediction.
Abide with us, oh precious child of God, Within our vast, triumphant hall of glass, Hung from heaven, draped, like blackest night, The sacred veil that nothing can surpass,
Tarry not within the devil’s view, But turn to us and know the touch of peace, The melting of the struggle to prevail, The succour that ensures all sorrows cease,
Find the shining spark that calls so clear, The pulchritude that lights the astral plane, The Holy Ghost, untrammeled and untouched, The sacred sword that rings as sin is slain,
With this weapon livening your hand, Hack away perdition’s foul embrace, The sick, ignoble galleries of hell, The vilely forming vistas of disgrace,
Aye, reach up and up and don’t look back, Spy aloft the cherubim on high, Heralding your place within their fold, “Abide with us”, they whisper, as we die.
A silken spell, knit strong by highest hands, Holding tight the seething ball of black, Woven to perfection, sealed by God, Equipped to brook the deadliest attack,
Within the flowing sackcloth’s golden thread, A travesty of demons waxing wild, Loosing scorn and magic on that place, Reserved for one; the steadfast holy child,
And is there aught of doubt or flinching there, Upon that clear visage of Christ on high? Nay, not one iota, mark ye well, No soul shall His pre-eminence decry,
And pray, what do I see writ large anon, While sifting through the codex of the skies? A signature, made by the Prince of Air, Set down by the deceitful Prince of Lies,
And where is this consent laid down you ask? What pledge has Satan made before us all? Confession, on the body of Our Lord, Aye, even he, to Christ must duly crawl.
adamdaniel 