1-2 The Word was first,
the Word present to God,
God present to the Word.
The Word was God,
in readiness for God from day one.
3-5 Everything was created through him;From The first chapter of John’s Gospel, the message translation
nothing—not one thing!—
came into being without him.
What came into existence was Life,
and the Life was Light to live by.
The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness;
the darkness couldn’t put it out.
With a great blaze of poetry, John begins to talk about the life of Jesus. He does not talk about babies in mangers or choirs of angels or wise men travelling from afar. Rather, he talks about light…
It is a cliche beyond my enjoyment to describe ourselves as made of stardust, even though somewhere deep in our carbon it may be true. I would much rather talk about how we are animated by light.
It is a mataphor of course, and one well employed by John, but I want to take a moment to consider whether it might also be ‘true’.
The life in us is only our own for a while. It burns bright and beautiful in some, in others it is obscured by so many shadows, but still the light remains.
As advent unfolds towards its apotheosis, I pray that whatever illuminates and animates you will sing in your soul. May it be the most graceful, the most loving, the most simple and the most human way of being.
I believe that this light is not gifted only to those who ‘belong’ through accident of membership or proximity, rather that it is the very core of all created/evolved life. I know this can be debated by application of all sorts of scripture-swords, but stil… I feel it differently.
It does not matter to me at all if you take a different view, because all will be revealed soon enough… in a blaze of light.
The light from stars
The last breath
Then the one after that
My hand on her head
Holding the last heat
As it faded away.
When light is thrown by stars
Does it fly forever
(Like a soul set free)
Or is it just taking the
Long way home?
If you are ready to go, I whispered
Go towards the light.
I have no words to describe your last poem ..only tears at your mother journeying on ,Thank you .
Thanks to you too Mervyn…
How moving. Thank you Chris