What of tears?
What of feelings of deep emotion?
What of the thoughts that seem to interfere
When one encounters the One to Whom we pray?
Don’t let them get in the way.
What is a poor body to do,
But quake before the awesome Presence?
What better use of tears
But to purify the vessel.
Allow the thoughts to bathe therein,
Outside the city
And realms of sin,
In the arms
Of One Who loves you
Through and through.
What of tears?
What of feelings of deep emotion?
What of the thoughts that seem to interfere
When one encounters the One to Whom we pray?
Don’t let them get in the way.
What is a poor body to do,
But quake before the awesome Presence?
What better use of tears
But to purify the vessel.
Allow the thoughts to bathe therein,
Outside the city
And realms of sin,
In the arms
Of One Who loves you
Through and through.
Still unfolding in Time,
God built the Universe
With you in mind.
Matter abounds in precise measure,
Yet only mind cares
To count the treasure.The Nature of Reality
Weighs only upon Man.
Mind, immaterial,
Counts on Science to understand.
But mensuration once obtained
Must be thought to think things through,
But since a thought can’t be weighed or measured.
How scientifically construed?Mind, in this life,
On matter dependent,
Ideas, ethereal,
Yet vaulted resplendent.
Archiving the conceptual
Memories bound to a brain,
Quantifying the great
And trifles mundane.Man alone of all Creation
Takes the world apart
To see why the tickings
And the tocks.
Challenges, stirred
By matter-less imagination,
End when no greater thought
Can be thought in our machinations.Only then do we arrive
At the God we accuse,
Of being a non-being All-being
And betray and abuse.
Still He points to the stars
And Man more numerous,
Assuring His intention
Was never injurious.Life from the stars?
Far-flung seeds of Creation?
Enduring, maturing, while from the beginning,
The God in the dock willing our Salvation.By Joann Nelander
What of tears?
What of feelings of deep emotion?
What of the thoughts that seem to interfere
When one encounters the One to Whom we pray?
Don’t let them get in the way.
What is a poor body to do,
But quake before the awesome Presence?
What better use of tears
But to purify the vessel.
Allow the thoughts to bathe therein,
Outside the city
And realms of sin,
In the arms
Of One Who loves you
Through and through.
Still unfolding in Time,
God built the Universe
With you in mind.
Matter abounds in precise measure,
Yet only mind cares
To count the treasure.The Nature of Reality
Weighs only upon Man.
Mind, immaterial,
Counts on Science to understand.
But mensuration once obtained
Must be thought to think things through,
But since a thought can’t be weighed or measured.
How scientifically construed?Mind, in this life,
On matter dependent,
Ideas, ethereal,
Yet vaulted resplendent.
Archiving the conceptual
Memories bound to a brain,
Quantifying the great
And trifles mundane.Man alone of all Creation
Takes the world apart
To see why the tickings
And the tocks.
Challenges, stirred
By matter-less imagination,
End when no greater thought
Can be thought in our machinations.Only then do we arrive
At the God we accuse,
Of being a non-being All-being
And betray and abuse.
Still He points to the stars
And Man more numerous,
Assuring His intention
Was never injurious.Life from the stars?
Far-flung seeds of Creation?
Enduring, maturing, while from the beginning,
The God in the dock willing our Salvation.By Joann Nelander
Is he Borg? He is the Borg Master, and the Borg is on the move. It is hungry and ambitious, and knows no benevolent God of love and limits. By edict, it steals the inclination to Virtue, usurping the role of conscience. Borg Master, and no other, proclaims right limits and no limits. He declares who has a right to being and how to be. He looses the license of pride and greed into his pot of promises. He stirs his brew with class hatred and malcontention. Where there was the reign of virtue, decency, morality, there is enthroned a sceptered Specter; the One, the Borg Mind ruling a “no people – no voice.” The Borg Meister feeding on our fears, our frenzy and our fetuses.
The Borg Master contemplating and worshiping himself along with the adoring, mindless, masses. Everything becomes his; his hope, his audaciousness, his government, his plan! Your life is his to manipulate, as are your morals and your dreams. What you have will be his in the end. He covets your freedom and your laughter. He is building a State of being and a state of living in which you are a nobody, a number. Have no doubt; you, my dear cog, will be assimilated into the Borg.
Borg Mind Master wants your soul. He can taste it. He nibbles at your conscience. Resistance stirs his rhetoric, as word upon word, worms beneath your reason, reconstructing the underpinning of your logic, and your creed. Winning your vote, he has procured your serfdom. Licking his fingers, how delicious your servitude!
Be Holy! 