On Casting Crowns and the wider Body of Christ.

Last night I attended a concert in the Abravanel Hall, In Salt Lake City Utah. It was performed by Casting Crowns. They are a group of musicians from Atlanta Georgia. They would be best described as Christian Contemporary Band, a Christian Rock Group. It felt like church. It felt good to meet with the church. If one accepts the wider definition that the church is the Body of Christ, a collection of his believers. To hear a Christian Pastor, speak in humbleness of his own sin, weakness, and brokenness.

To see the beards, tattoo’s, and scars of the followers of Jesus Christ. To feel the spirit flow as the word was preached in humbleness. That Heavenly Father could use the tool of loud raucous rock music to preach the Word of God, to his people.

To spend the day with my sister who has her own brokenness. This is a blessing, I will not forget.

That I may always follow the example of this pastor, and reach out in humbleness to preach his word and bless the life of every person that I meet would be the prayer in my heart today.

"And also those to whom these commandments were given, might have power to lay the foundation of this church, and to bring it forth out of obscurity and out of darkness, the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth, with which I, the Lord, am well pleased, speaking unto the church collectively and not individually—

For I the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance;"

(Doctrine and Covenants 1:30-31)

"Finally, the restored gospel is a gospel of liberality and generosity. It took my former-Catholic wife Fiona to teach me that the church John saw did not disappear; it retreated into the wilderness. Joseph Smith saw the Restoration as a bringing of that church back out of the wilderness, a restoration of the “ancient palace” now reduced to ruins, a reassembling of all the good and beautiful in the world and in the Christian tradition, that had been lost or corrupted from Eden forward. The church I love has invisible borders, and reminds me of what was written of Spinoza, that “he rejected the orthodoxy of his day not because he believed less, but because he believed more.” Or as Joseph wrote, “it feels so good not to be trammeled.”

For myriad reasons, but these five principally, I choose and affirm this path in order better to live as what Elder Uchtdorf calls “a disciple of the gentle Christ.”

https://www.fairmormon.org/testimo…/scholars/terryl-l-givens

"When the dragon saw that he had been hurled to the earth, he pursued the woman who had given birth to the male child. The woman was given the two wings of a great eagle, so that she might fly to the place prepared for her in the wilderness, where she would be taken care of for a time, times and half a time, out of the serpent’s reach. Then from his mouth, the serpent spewed water like a river, to overtake the woman and sweep her away with the torrent. But the earth helped the woman by opening its mouth and swallowing the river that the dragon had spewed out of his mouth. Then the dragon was enraged at the woman and went off to wage war against the rest of her offspring—those who keep God’s commands and hold fast their testimony about Jesus.

Revelations 12:13-17 NIV

"I hope no reader will suppose that ‘mere’ Christianity is here put forward as an alternative to the creeds of the existing communions—as if a man could adopt it in preference to Congregationalism or Greek Orthodoxy or anything else. It is more like a hall out of which doors open into several rooms." ... "But it is in the rooms, not in the hall, that there are fires and chairs and meals The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try the various doors, not a place to live in. For that purpose the worst of the rooms (whichever that may be) is, I think, preferable. it is true that some people may find they have to wait in the hail for a considerable time, while others feel certain almost at once which door they must knock at. I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into your room you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good which you would not have had otherwise. But you must regard it as waiting, not as camping. You must keep on praying for light: and, of course, even in the hall, you must begin trying to obey the rules which are common to the whole house. And above all you must be asking which door is the true one; not which pleases you best by its paint and paneling. In plain language, the question should never be: ‘Do I like that kind of service?’ but ‘Are these doctrines true: Is holiness here? Does my conscience move me towards this? Is my reluctance to knock at this door due to my pride, or my mere taste, or my personal dislike of this particular door-keeper?’

When you have reached your own room, be kind to those who have chosen different doors and to those who are still in the hall. If they are wrong they need your prayers all the more; and if they are your enemies, then you are under orders to pray for them. That is one of the rules common to the whole house." C. S. Lewis Mere Christianity: Preface

On the new haircut

They complimented her,
On the new haircut,
The ladies of the ward.

Little did they know,
It was coming out,
In handfuls now.

Six months left,
The doctor gave her.

Then the husband,
And the children,
No more.

How to leave this,
Then.

The family she had,
So longed for.

To hear her voice.

To hear to the voice,
of the one I love.

It has been too long,
nearly.

This long time,
to hear her voice.

Their was a time, I was not sure,
she would come.

These days I longed for ...

The first diaper.
The first word.
The first step.

These I thought would never come.

We shared a hammer,
when she was three.

It was our first home in Logan.
She helped me to remodel the entrance.

Now I wait by the phone,
as my Mom did for me

To help her in her time of need.

May I ever be grateful for the gifts,
she has offered me

Thinking of Vicksburg

How I long to be with you again?
Among your people.
This 30 years.

I learned so much,
the last time,
I was with you, there.

I think of Gloria,
cancer took her from her family,
for a while, to be together, again someday.

What of the truck driver?
Traveling with the one?
Who was not his wife?

Seven days, to make the sacred covenants.
The mission president who changed his schedule, to interview the man.

Are they married now with grandkids?

I long to be with you again.
I am needed here, so here stay.

But part of my heart remains with you.
For Eternal Things.

From whence does it come?

Still the poetry,
From where doeth it come.

But come'th it does.

Till I come,
It reaches me.

Forever more
And then the same.

Doeth it reach you?

Posted Facebook Sept 2016

The Church as an AA Meeting

To sin, the choice,
This I have made.

Sin is a choice
And to this I do.

Of ignorance comes,
the transgression.

But this sin,
I must choose.

Of foreknowledge, And desire.

I have chosen this, Sin,
for so long. A pattern it is,
And I know no other.

Other sinners, Must I seek.
Like two drunks, In an A.A. meeting.

Will Bill and Bob, Help me to change.
To sin no more, A day at a time.

Then  is this, the church real,
This then The Body of Christ.

Sinners in a great AA meeting.

The selling of hate

The world is it now,
becoming?

They seek to divide,
us.

To better sell,
the goods.

Hate sells better
then love.

To advertise,
they must shock us.

Murder, theft, and robbery
sell better than,
kittens and new puppies.

To entertain, us.

They must divide, us.

By all measures,
the world gets better,

When I walk away,
turn it off,
and seek to serve.

Facebook poem 09/18/2018
Revised 09/19/2018

On our first day.

That day was our first,
together.

I so longed,
for that day.

That day you created,
a new father.

Born less then,
perfect.

As a father,
I am less then perfect.

You learned to,
overcome ...

I learned to,
be a father.

We both overcome,
our imperfections.

As we seek for growth,
Redemption,
and forgiveness.

On being Samwise Gamgee

This then the walk,
Mr Frodo and I.

How long have we,
journeyed thus?

My burden, not The Ring.
My burden, Mr Frodo.

To standby,
then to wait.

Never the glory,
Ever the burden.

But journey we will,
standby I have.

Meet then our goal,
to the journey, we thus,
The Ring then destroy.

This then our task.

On my Moms

Do they carry us,
Or do we carry them.

The are all gone now,
but one.

The one who was my mom,
And the one's who wanted to be.

I feel their luv.
I understand their fears.

Now I take their lessons,
And make them my own.

To father the ones,
Who remain.

They are gone now, but remain with me, to share.

* At one time, or another, all of my aunt's expressed a desire to be my mom

Sept 11 2015
Facebook.
Update Sept 20, 2018

On poetry

Forth comes the poetry,
Doe'th it naught.

For what purpose,
comes the poetry.

A new found prayer,
a thought,
or a hope, for the future.

Wriggleing forth,  on upward.

To bar it now,
unable or unwilling.

I am.

But share it I must,
endure it you might.

The way then is thus,
to bless us ...

Both.

To hear her voice

I called today,
to hear her voice.

Not the angry,
Or sullen, or dying voice.

The voice from when,
We first, fell, in love.

I have luved her,
This many years.

But how long since,
Have we, been friends.

The separation heals,
It drives me to the longing, years.

To luv, is a covenant,
Down through, the years.

Mom and Dad,
Luved, for nearly, 50 years.

Can I reach out, to rebuild.

This friendship, 

Now we've luved,
This many years.

She came, in her own special way.

I have mourned you, now
This many years.

The years we could have had,
The things we could have shared.

God did promise, you to me.

Have I closed that part, of our hearts.

One who loves us both,
offered us, two,

They filled the void.

Still the life, I sought,
did not come come,
and never would be.

Did you not did come,
on a different path,
in different way?

You and your brother both?

There is new found love,
heartache and pain.

The times, we share,
the lessons, we learn.

The joy you bring,
as you learn to fly,
in your own special way.

On letting go

This past decade, or two,
She was their,

My greatest desire,
Husband and father.

Now she takes flight,
and trust her I must.

Once I left my mom,
three years nearly.

With narley a call or letter.

Yet love me she did,
From a distance.

Now trust her I must,
that return she will,
as I did too.

Noah let loose three birds,
and the rescue was sure,
when return, they did not.

Yet return I did,
and rebuild we did.

Now to my Father and Daughter,
do we thus now begin,
anew.

When joy returns

I am thinking thinking about pain and suffering and endurance, grace, gratitude, cancer, remission, being run over by a cement truck, steak knifes and forearms.

Ever wondering when joy will return. Angry, very angy and gratitude still.

Wales and Duck Billed Platypuses and the joy of Gods humorous creations. Quasar, dark matter,  the smile on my sons face when I come home.

That their is light and God will send many Samwise Ganges when Mr. Frodo can no longer carry the load.

https://youtu.be/9hN9c3RQpZs

The ring we share

It was a simple sterling wedding band purchased at a pawn shop.  It was discarded by another when its value in cash exceeded its value in sentiment.  He wore it daily as a reminder of the covenant they shared.  It was not the first band, that band stayed behind in the jewelry box.  It was too valuable and easily damaged.  The first would not endure long, in the room where he washed clothes to feed their growing family.

She is gone now,

yet they are one.

This we share, now.

The three of us.

A covenant,

a promise,

a ring.

Once it was shared,

by two, then came two more,

and the temple ceremony,

then two more,

Dad gave me the ring,

years ago.

Now four more are bound,

by the ring, the promise,

and the covenant.

My father gave me his second wedding band, which I now wear.
I have three siblings and two children.

He lives with death.

He lives with death,
Or is it life.

T'is life to love,
This all it is.

He does it all,
To come to this.

To this I come,
Or do I leave

To leave and come,
This life is all.

Steven Bassett

Wrote this in Aug 2015 in the midst of my wifes cancer when we believed she was terminal.

Things tobe Grateful for

Grateful for the amazing gift of doubt...
Being run over by a cement truck, and being alive...
For the gift of poetry that follows ...
No firearms in the house on my darkest day ...
The gift of courage to help preserve my wife's life...
For a wife and two beautiful children ...
For a surgery at birth that allowed me to live more then one week.
That my parents learned to forgive, forget and luv again for nearly 50 years...
For being born sterile and the opportunities this gift offered my children ....
That they learned to luv their birth mother ...
That she was an important part of their lives ...
That my brother and sisters learned to forgive, forget and to luv again ...

That I worship a limited god who is blessed with sufficent power to redeem my soul.  ...

For John Milton, William Tyndale, John Bunyan, Isaac Newton,George MacDonald, G.K. Chesterton and C.S. (Jack) Lewis.

* My god has freely chosen to limit his own power to allow me the fullest expression of will.

On incomplete poetry and revealed thought

Why doe'th he write it,
Or doe'th it right him.

These thoughts incomplete,
They revele'th their in.

To fill in the blanks,
Tis but given them now.

T'is his not to seek,
but to them to reveal.

To both, come'th now,
And it filleth their in.

Facebook July 2015

Only to believe

To know, not now,
to believe, then only

So certain, I was,
in my youth

Now then does,
begin old age.

This, then, uncertainty.

T'is a good thing?
This uncertainty?

Comes a stretching.
Thus a reaching.

Rest, not, now.
No sense of piece.

Must now strive,
to gather then thus.

The pieces.

Not to rest,
then to strive.

The answers, then come,
increasingly still.

Thus then, now.

Only, to believe.

On harvesting truth

4 For behold the field is white already to harvest; and lo, he that thrusteth in his sickle with his might, the same layeth up in storethat he perisheth not, but bringeth salvation to his soul;

5 And faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of God, qualify him for the work.

6 Remember faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, brotherly kindness, godliness, charity, humility, diligence.

7 Ask, and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Amen. (Doctrine and Covenants 4)

It struck me today an additional meaning of this scripture.  I am learning some of the process Joseph used in restoring the church.

He gathered it more like Ruth the gleaner then fully firmed ex nihilo. 

The notebooks where the early text begin to form show signs of collaboration almost like he was seeking spiritual confirmation from others he had learned to trust.

Joseph saught to democratize the prophetic voice.  He wanted all to have a revelation.

On becoming friends.

This is where we first,
became known,
this one and I.

We where not friends,
far too long.

Too much alike,
to ever be the same.

We exercised our demons,
together,
a-part.

It is asphalt now,
as it was then,

this the playground,
and our friendship.

Have we changed much,
this parking lot,
and I.

Does difference, make us the same?

How much of our distance was of my fault.

Then the comes the letter,
we are different no more,
now always the same.

I mourn now the choices we make,
the pain I did not remove,
the light I did not bring.

Till we meet again my friend,

I exercise my demons
and seek the light.

*revised July 2018 from a poem posted to Facebook in July 2015 on the suicide of a friend Kelley Niederhauser.

It is a parking lot made from the playground of the old. Woodruff Elementary School in Logan Utah.

Kelley wrote me a letter when we left on our mission's.  I still long for the memories we did not share.  If we had reconciled sooner or I had shared myself more, their might have been a different ending.

When I had my darkest day no firearms were in the home.  Still understand do I and greave the loss of what might have been.

On grandpas anvil

Grandpa's anvil
sits in the garage.

He used it to create,
horseshoes.

We use it to repair,
cars.

Dad tells me it left home, once.
Grandpa went to fetch it home.

A neighbor had a need,
then returned it, not.
Grandpa pulled out a switch,
and beat that anvil.

Grandpa was a small man,
over the shoulder he carried it,
told that anvil never to leave home again.

This story my Dad tells me about of his granddad.

Passed down through the ages,
the story, and anvil.
Always together,
never apart.

What will they, carry, down.
My children, when gone, I am?

This my Luv, and the truth, I share.

The poet

This, did I not ask,
for.

to be a poet

not like a violinist,
or pianist.

A talent, to be selected,
and matured.

It is imposed,
when it comes.

This newness,
this muze.

It comes to me,
unapposed.

Like the morning rain,
to the flowers.

The mouse seeking,
for the cat

This then does,
feed my soul.

*C.S. lewis said as an atheist his search for God was like the mouse's search for the cat. "Surprised by Joy"

-- 

Steven Bassett

Luv is a verb

This new word, com'th to me.

This verb, this new thing,
that comes to me now.

Is it naught?,
this new thing,

How to do it,
Not.

This thing, this new thing.

It is painful, and with it comes growth.

When I choose it, we both grow.

This thing to come,
years now.

When it does, I am greatful,
for the gift.

We share, now.

Difficult things, and the dance

Difficult things, I seek then to know.
Yet thus to explain, then able,  e'm not.

I ponder them now,
this many years

These thoughts, then to share ,
thus, desire I now.

Why do you not,
understand me then?

To win an argument,
seek, I then not.

I want to share, a truth.

Maybe the day, will come,
when prepared to receive, you are

Or better able, to explain, I am.

Till then, shall we dance,
and be friends.

The Negotiation

Now begins...

The third marriage,
To the first wife.

Began then the first,
Young love,
full of possibility.

Two comes the babies,
when no life, we create,

Together.

From one,

who luvs us,

All.

Then three comes the time,
The babies now raised,
Our parents come now,
To the end of their days.

That this now complete,
The promises kept,
The cycle complete,
The covenants shared.

Tobe Unborn and Luved

Dana was my name.

Dana Allan ...

Prepared, not was Momma,
for my birth.

This then, the I.U.D.

Four others already had she,

and with Daddy that made five.

Luv'd him, did she,
and them, too.

Life is hard, real hard.  

She saught to fill his needs,
and there's too.

Young she was, and maturing too.

Now I understand,
I hope they do, too.

Then comes grace,
and forgiveness.

I hope you are luv"d,
remembered,
and mourned.

(Note an I.U.D is an intrauterine device designed to prevent conception.
My Mom was wearing one the day I was born. 
She desire not my birth, yet name me she did,
and mourned my loss the remainder of her days.)

.

The Handmaiden ToBe

Their she lay, at Boaz foot ...

Tobe covered, by the hem,
Of the covenant.

Then on to bring forth the child,
of Naomi, and Boaz.

That the inheritance and covenant,
may continue.

This then the promise was made,
and the promise was kept.

To the bring forth, the Kings.

First David, then Jesus,

To serve them all.

What Remains

Caught by the grandkids ...

mak'n out, at the cemetary.

Their, were they,  
tobe, with their daughter,

and what remains.

It had been long, too long

this last, separation

Luv takes time ...

This long time.
it simmers, and bubbles, and over flows.

Then what remains, in old age?

How to rekindle,
that midnight cigarette?

This then, they do now, here,

with their daughter, son, and grandkids.

The Other Handmaiden

What of the other,
handmaiden.

She who bore,
the Son of God.

Was she like the former.

Ruth bore, the son of Naomi.
The grandfather, of David.

So to the handmaidens,
now we do ...

This then honor,
the Mother Of All.

"Entreat me not to leave thee ...

Thy people shall be my people ...
Thy god is my God."

He who bore the sins of the world.
Born of a handmaiden.

A gift to The Mother,
Eternal, in her home above.

We speak not of her,
this then, must we change.

This then to honor,
them all.

That then all of the handmaidens,
to the Mother, Eternal...

May they share. The fruits of their womb.

Eternal.

A Handmaids Tale

Ruth was Naomi's handmaiden.
This fruit of her womb, given as a gift,
and a sign of love.

I have know Naomi,
I have know Ruth.

I choose to luv,
them both.

One for the gift of life,
the other for the gift of her life.

For to cherish the children,
both they do.

The danger, was there.

Slow down He said.
There is danger ahead,
slow down.

No danger was there
I saw it not.

Thus, I slowed down.

I have learned to heed his council.
That is why I preside now,
over his mission,
and 240 of his children.

That nothing happened.
Did I hear Him wrong?

This I did not!
I know his voice,
as a child knows his father.

Then on I go,
to preside again.

Because I headed his voice,
nothing, was there.

On this Mother's Day

To this, to then.
This Mother's Day,

To then, to this,
Go forth, and now

To Joy go forth,
to share it now.

To rise, to fall
then onward go.

To luv, my Mom,
and then my wife.

To bring the joy,
then, now we share.

Then on, to forth,
to our daughter now.

On Mothers Day

To Mothers, this day,
Then not my best.

To this, then Mothers,
Then tobe.

She loved me, then,
Now, both they do.

The first, then Mom,
now then, my wife.

To honor, both then
This then, I do.

Then to another,
She then, will be.

Mothers, till then,
They all, then be.

This then , this poem

To separate God, from my culture. 
This then, this poem
Is, tobe....

Caffeine and the Word of Wisdom

He said not to drink caffeine,
the minister did,
if i wanted to go on a mission
then drink it not,

it is law 
Gods law,
the word of wisdom.

I was then faithful.
To the law.

or was I?

I potted the plant

Nephi, cut off, the head of Laban ...

I potted the plant.

if I were but more, faithfull

would I still pot the plant?

Death comes knocking at our door,

urging me to let it in ...

but then I potted the plant.

Nephi lopped off the head, 

to preseve,.

the history,

of the family.

I potted the plant

to preserve,

life, of the one.

I then free to choose,

my actions this day.

The consequence less,

and the price,

I too pay.

On mommas poem

I found the poem, today.
the one to daddy,
before he was daddy.

Momma had the prettiest penmanship,
but spell, she could not,
to save her life.

I loved to read, mommas letters.

To me, she wrote one,
when I broke my arm,
as a child.

I found it in the baby book ...
the one she started,
but never completed ...

Their was a shadow, on the book,
left by the trauma, of my surgery,
at birth.

Momma luved Daddy,
the kind of luv that stays,
and works things out.

I want that kind of luv,
for my wife and children.

To stay and work things out.

Maybe someday,
they will find my letters, and poems,
and feel my luv for
my wife, and their grandmother.

When we started the war

It began in Daviess County.

We the persecuted ones,

we left New York

we left Kirtland

we left Missouri

we left Illinois

then came Utah, and Mountain Meadows,

but then we started the war.

In Far West, on July 4 1838, we said no more.

Sidney Rigdon, and The Salt Sermon.

We warned the Missourians,

what would happen,

if thy continued, 

then, we burned their homes,

and destroyed their goods

Because we said, no more

Now we are alone at Hauns Mill,

because, He said no more,

They are My children too ...

our homes destroyed, because,
He said no more.

Now we learn at Liberty Jail-Temple

to say no more, and learn to serve and protect

This, then, his way, now.

Then on, to be alone, 

no more ...

Into the Danger Zone

It was a Kenny Loggins night,

There by the banks of the old canal,
behind the elementary school,
theme from "Top Gun",
on the WalkMan.

This place, full of memories, bad ...
and good, on the highway,
to the danger zone

She was his first, and still his only ...

Tomorrow, at the Temple,
they will covenant to be one.

Together, they will share,
This ride, into the wind.

But for now, He thinks
Of the dance, to come.

This life, together, and apart.

They Danced

Why continue, the dance.

Nearly 50 years, separated only by death.

She really wanted the 50, years.

Come together, separate, then together ...
Again.

Their had been other lovers but only one
Real, luv.

Why continue the dance?

She really luved him but life,
With him, was hard.

She never let anyone close, really close

But the dance they shared,
The life they shared.

It ment so much, to them, and the children.

Is love then truly an act and not a feeling.

To endure the heartache and pain.

This then the dance, together and apart.

The scars we carry

We both carry the scars,
the ones from our darkest day.

I for the life I lived,
He from the life I lived.

Dark with dispair, was I.
To carry my dispair, did he.

How I long to speak, to him,
of our scars.

He must have luved me,
as I long to luv them now.

This is a dream we share,
the scars that bind us ...

Eternally.

On learning new things

Difficult things, I seek to know.
Yet thus explain,  I cannot.
And little understand, do I yet.

I ponder them now,
These many years

Long do to I desire,
to share these thoughts.

Then why do you not,
understand me thus?

To win an argument,
I do not, then seek.

I want to share, a truth.

Maybe the day, will come,
when better prepared to receive, you are

Or more able, to explain, I am.

Till then, shall we dance,
and be friends.

On her paintings

She painted,
In water colors and oil.

Whence she started, I do not know.

Late in life, I do suppose.

In life, I did not appreciate them.

Long gone, she is now.

Charlene her daughter in law
She was living with, when grandma died.

She sent them to my sister.

We have them now.

I long for her presence,
the paintings will do..
for Now.

Maybe my children will have my poetry,
when gone, I am, too.

Will they long for me, as I do, for her ...
Now

The Castle

Their is a castle set
In the middle of our town

A castle built
To house a God.

Their are battlements,
But no keep and bailey

I have seen it,
from my bedroom window,
this lifetime.

We build temples,
so God can be with us, in our midts.

Emmanuel.

Long before I understood,
why we built them,

I wondered,

Why? battlements.

They were Englishman,
The first ones.

But Swedes, and Swiss , Germans too.

Refugees from their homeland,
Come to build Gods Kingdom

My people left The United States,
to gain religious Freedom.

Having been conquered, in the Mexican American war,

They then became territory.

The Utah Territory.

Their first governor, a prophet,
battled Johnston's Army,
to a stalemate.

For fourty years they battled to leave and then to rejoin The United States.

So the first four temples in Utah all have battlements.

A sign of victory, through defeat.

The choice

Why choose,
to end a life.

Mistakes he had made,
and been forgiven.

Then came, new life,
a wife, and 2 children.

Still the demons haunted him.

The seizures, waking,
have returned again.

He tried, so hard,

To begin life, anew.

I have had dark hours too.

I know the despair felt, that day.

Luckily no access to guns, did I have,
on my day.

Others live with our choices, too.

Now two babies have no father.
The world has one more widow.

And I am a loss,
to explain, the choice.

On creating midrash

She had told him,
The young life, had been wasted?

Or did she.

He ask momma,
Why his daughter died.

His daughter being less then 6 months.

Crib death they called, it.
No explanation, no answer.

He ask Momma,
Why.

To help you be a man.

He said I am not a man, I have not changed.

He heard, "Your daughters life's was wasted"

He then became a man, and changed.

This is the story, I heard,
as I studied,
at his table.

Two lives improved, by her short life.

Now I tell you the story.

This is the power of myth,  as it becomes midrash.

The poems

To this then the poems.

Come forth unannounced
Unaware.

I call them forth, naught.

From whence do the come?

Come forth thence do, they.

To bless, and to share.

Thus,
therapy, could be they?

Share them, do I,
Then.

In hopes to bring forth,
The light.

For all to share.

This, Then, be Sacred

It was oil, olive,
Then was it, naught.

Together, they nelt,

Together, they prayed.

How does one seek forgiveness,
of the self.

To then hallow, the vulgar, choice.

To remove,
this, then, the pain.

Thus, to bless the oil,
and then the act.

To make this, then, sacred, the choice.

To the moment they shared.

That peace may come,
and the pain,
be no more.

For to remove, is to restore,
and safeguard life.

This then, the choice, he made.

When to plant, the pot.

Nephi had done it.
Many prophets did it
Defied the culture
To save a life.

Now we plant the pot.

It is a risk.
The risk we bare.

He who plants, 24 years.

We who grow, our home, and freedom.

We risk it all.
For the one we luv

Now to bare fruit.

The cure it came.

To share another day.
With the one we luv.

Acts 10:9-16

The blanket,
it was spread forth,
on the roof top.

All the unclean food.

"Take eat this is my body"

Three times the command was repeated.

Then the meal was removed.

Three times he had denied Christ, before.

He had been ever faithfull,
Ever since.

But this seamed a bridge, too far.

He pondered thus.

Can anything be impure,
What God has made pure.

When the men came,
from Cornelius,
he journied, thus.

Have I denied,
the pure,
unpure.

The pot was planted,
the pure,
unpure.

The prisoner, in his jail cell.
The unloved.
The unwashed.

To have not left,
The cave.

To leave behind the burden,
the expectation of his culture.

To be with, and strengthen,
the impure.

Those with heavy burdens.

This was his task,
and desire.

The scares, He bore.

The knife, it was not sharp,

Just enough,

Serrated, thus it was,

Small in size.

Designed to portion a steak

into smaller pieces.

It had rested on the table.

Left from a previous meal.

It was a tough morning,

leading to a tough day.

One was dying, was she?

and one was taking the covenants,

of marriage.

Both performed,

one the marriage,

one the promise.

He was uncertain of his place, in both lives.

Luck had it there were no guns in the house.

Still,

Would they really care in the morning?

There was a lot of blood,

Still..

On Plato's Cave

Success and family was what, then he saught, always.

Long lived they in the cave.

The images that surrounded, them.

Were they real, or naught.

The others, outside, had such expectations.

He wanted to be with them too.

To be with them, this he could naught.

So he lived two lives, between the real and the cave.

Someday he would be naught.

Maybe his God would judge him naught.

But leave them, in the cave, he could naught.

Until they freed themselves.

Was it not the cave, Plato's cave.

Escape it once he did, almost.

But return then he must.

They could not see the real for the image.

For to leave them he could bare, naught.

So this then, was his task.

To be with them, and strengthen them, until they freed their own chains.

Then together they would leave the cave...

Tobe their naught.

On Mr Frodo and Gethsemane.

What be their task.
Here in the garden.

Know they not then, this burden.

Come to gloat, had they now,
Or only to mourn, this one.

If this be the failure, final.
All will be lost.

How to strengthen him then.
Thus now they confired.

This burden, could carry, they not,
For man
For God.

The blood it flowed, drop by drop.

Once before their had been such a scene.

High on Mount Doom, in Mordor, a task almost too much, for this one to bare.

Mr Frodo, all spent from burden, thus carried.

It had all seamed in vain.

Till came the friend, who walked the path.

Samwise Gamgee

"Come, Mr. Frodo!' he cried. 'I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you."

So do angel's imitate men and hobbits.

This lesson they share.

On Celtic Bishops.

What of the Celtic Bishop's.

Born so long ago.

How long did they preserve, the church?

... after the fall of the empire.

This long time, they served humanity, and transmitted culture, and learning.

St. Patrick's grandfather was one.

How they loved and cherished their wives.

To nourish the church in the wilderness,
was it not, their lives vocation.

Till in her beauty, she came forth, in all her strength, and magistry.

From whence doth it come?

The poetry.

Like a fountain.
A Volcano ,
A perrenial flower, that fails to bloom ,

... when neglected.

Long do'th it question me.

Like a Jungian apparition. 

... uncalled for it comes.

To the answers I seek,

Only questions, are provided.

Like a twisted, Douglas Adams dream.

The answer is 42, but what of the question.

Still together we dance,
The poetry, and I.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Jung

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_Adams

Douglas Adams wrote "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy". In the latest version we learn the Earth was created by the mice to learn the eternal question, the answer, to which, is 42.

On Being Vulgar ...

I am a Vulgar man.
Less common with the coming years.

I learned to swear, like Brother Brigham.

Life does that to you.

This life happens, as you are making other plans.

Promised a large righteous posterity, by one who knew I was sterile.

Never to create new life in this world.

How does one become less common, more vulgar.

Feeling less mormon, and  more christlike each day.

I planted the pot.

I adopted two children from one who could create new life, special gift, from one who loves our family.

A gift, I hope to repay someway.

I helped to prosecute a young man who misused his reproductive powers.

Then purchased a van to visit him for several years.

To let him know he was not his crime.

This commoness
This Vulgarness

Trade, with the coming years.

Till I become less like me,
and more like him.

On the light of Christ

What of them, the Other,
Who never learned his name,

nor sacred covenants made.

Dammed to hell,
thus we're told.

Alvin Smith was the Other,
so was the Buddha.

Both came before the restoration,

of all things.

What is this Light Of Christ.

A power sent, and a gift offered,

To guide Them, to him, and lead, 

Them, to the Father.

Then comes the temple, and a chance,

to offer, the covenants to all.

The past, and the future children of God.

Prepared are they now, for his presence, and to preside in the Divine Council.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alvin_Smith_(brother_of_Joseph_Smith)#Death

On the importance of tolerance ..

They said I must be, tolerant,
of the Other .

The Catholics were tolerant,
of the Protestants.

The Whites were tolerant,
of the Blacks.

The Missourian's were tolerant,
of the Mormon's.

I am told, tolerance,
will be enough.

How do I learn to need ...

the Other?

The newly married,

same gendered couple,
on the back row.

The One addicted to,
Porn,
Booze,
Food,
Sex,

The unloved.
The unwashed.

The Bishop unwilling to accept,
the one child, who no longer believes.

I, Myself, 

Who now struggles,
to hold to a belief,
I have luved from youth.

My Momma has taught me to luv,
the Other.

Can we learn to embrace, and need ...

The other,

till we come,
to a greater,
understanding,

Of the Other, like me.

Does the song remember when?

Does the song?

Know when, to remember,

Or when,  to forget.

Memories of Momma, on my mind.

When will come the children.

To long for them we do.

Do I remember the future, or is it the past.

This time too, shall pass.

This road to come, long it is,

Here I am in Momma's van.

Trisha Yearwood,  playing on the tape deck.

"The Song Remembers When".

When to love, when to cry, and when to try again.

To still the anger, then be one/won

He was angry with one of them.
With which one, he was not certain.

He had kissed them both.

In his life, their had only been two.

One gave him life, the other shared his bed.

Why spread the anger at the first, to the second?

The second had urged him, to settled the anger , with the first.

He was unwilling, to do the same.

So it spoiled his time, with the second.

Before the death of the first, their was reconciliation, and real forgiveness.

Now how to return to the second, to diminish the void, he created.

... this then is his quest.

On the cemetery, at Grants Ward.

I went to the cemetery today,
in Grants Ward, to see if Momma, was there.

Momma and I had been there, together, many times before.

This was not the first place I checked.

I  First, went to the one in Swan Lake.

The place of her Grandma and Grandpa's remains.

The baby they lost, and grandmas sister, they were not there.

My family has lived with death, for so long.

In ten years grandma lost,
Nada, Ken, Grandpa, Fred, and a grandson too, Willard's boy.

I lost my wife, too then, nearly,

This cure then, to be grateful for ...

There are wild roses near the graves, in Grants Ward.

My family still comes each spring,
to clean the graves.

Long gone but not forgotten.

My Grandmas's favorite song was My Wild Irish Rose.

My Aunt's and Uncle's sang it each year, at the family reunion.

Their tuning was wild, like the wild Irish rose.

Still, I felt the love in their hearts as they sang for their parents.

I have some of the wild roses, in my yard.

From the cemetery, in Grants Ward. 

Like the wild Irish rose, that was my grandmother.

Transplanted they are, like the memories, of my Mom.

The experiences with Mom, are like the roses, a little bit wild.

They grow best when left to their own, unmolested, but remembered.

Grants Ward is a geographical designation,

Between Swan Lake and Downy Idaho.

Bannock County, Idaho

Latitude: 42.4012694

Longitude: -112.0380434

It is the place my Grandparents homesteaded,

before they lost the baby and moved to Logan Utah.

It is near the Byington Family Grave site.
http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~idbancem/downey_area_cemeteries/grant_ward/grant_ward_cemetery.htm

On the other, moms

She wanted to be his mom,
She did.

They all did.

All of the Aunt's
Wanted to be his mom.

He luved his Mom
Or so he thought.

But still tobe angry,
And very angry, still.

If he choose an aunt, to be his mom,
life would be better, so much better.

But which grandma, would he lose.

Thinking of the lost husbands, and babies, too.

The ones they had lost, to create what he was,

He will pay the price, to forgive and be forgiven.

That his children may have a father, they may choose to honor.

This then, is, his prayer.

To the end of, his days.

On the importance, of the poetry.

It was long his dream,
To write the history.

He tried once,
So long ago.

The journals in high school.

The letters to his children.

They were too complete,
in his brokeness.

How to help you to luv them,
He saught.

Then comes the poetry.

Poetry is broken, and incomplete.

This is the blessing, and a way, to show,

The luv.

A man and his murse ...

Why does a man need purse?

I knew a man, who had a jewelry box.

I have been accused, of being that man,
Little Eddie Jr.

In my purse, I have 5 Android devices,
And their chargers.

O' and my wallet too.

It was purchased for a small netbook,
But now it is a murse, a man's purse.

We go many places, together.

I always have it nearby.

Once in the hospital, I had no charger.

Now like a good Eagle Scout, I am always prepared.

It has a spare battery powered charger, two bluetooth headphones.,
And lots of good USB cables .

I hope you are prepared with a murse, or a jewelry box.

On Mommas, twin sister

Momma had a twin sister,
they were born 18 months apart.
Where one would go, the other would follow

for years they shared a bedroom,
and a bed too.

Momma had the babies
her sister helped to raise them.

having three children,
in a short time,
momma needed help, with the babies.

momma, took her sister, on their vacations
they shared a bed then too.
momma was in the middle,
just so daddy's eyes did not roam too far.

they luved the babies together,
momma and her sister.

in the summer's, after her marriage
momma sister would take a child, for a week or two.

her sister ached for her unborn child
momma's children helped fill the void.

I luved momma and I luved her sister,
They really completed each other.

On making a baby ...

Let's make a baby,
She said.

It was not the first night,
But the second.

The first had been a pajama night.

Still he had not sleeped with a woman,
Except momma, her momma, or an aunt.

The first day was a busy day,
The wedding breakfast,
Temple ceremony, when he nearly fainted, and the wedding reception.

So the first night was a pajama night.

She was the first to kiss him,
Except momma.

That second night, they did try, to make a baby.

Little did they know, He could never create new life.

Still they luved to try.

The babies did come, send from another who luved them all.

He so luved his Eve.
So times seam tough and life is a struggle ,
Still he knows she was the first and will remain the only,

To ask him, to help her, to make a baby.

On the first, broken, family.

Eve luved Adam,

She remembered the time before,

Before, when she was part of him.

Not a finger, or a toe, but a rib.

Always their beside him.

She luved the warm feeling.

To be a part of him.

Then come'th the separation.

No more together they are.

Then came the fruit.

And the knowledge.

They could be more together.

Adam wanted God.

Eve wanted Adam, and his babies.

Then, the separation, from God.

But still the joy would come.

Then the babies, Caine and Able.

Jealous was Cain of Able.

With Cain's choice, came death, to the world.

And sorrow to the family.

Where to go now, this first, broken , family.

How to recover Joy from such sorrow.

Tears and service and luv and forgiveness.

Then comes the gift of Seth.

Joy doth then return.

And many more children, to follow.

Till they be one again.

J. Golden on thinking for ourselves.

... "but all the men in the United States cannot prevent a man from thinking. There are not Apostles enough in the Church to prevent us from thinking, and they are not disposed to do so; but some people fancy because we have the Presidency and Apostles of the Church they will do the thinking for us. There are men and women so mentally lazy that they hardly think for themselves. To think calls for effort, which makes some men tired and wearies their souls. Now, brethren and sisters, we are surrounded with, such conditions that it requires not only thought, but the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Latter-day Saints, you must think for yourselves. No man or woman can remain in this Church on borrowed light." (J. Golden Kimball. April 1904 General Conference)

To be grateful, and the anger, be still ...

She, was dying.

Dying She, was ?

Or, was He ?

To grateful, for the small things,

Where, they?

A full hair of head .

A Hair Stylist, with real talent.

Two children, and a husband, she luved.

Angry he was, VERY VERY VERY ANGRY !

She was the center of his universe.

Talk about it, he could not .

Why?

Then came the one who brought the cure.

... AND ANGRY, VERY ANGRY, was he, still.

So, very still.

Talk, he could not, and why, they knew not.

Yet, came the cure, the full head of hair.

A full remission.

... and now to the rebuilding, of a life.

To let the anger, be still.

On their brokenness

Broken, the doll was,
broken, and luved.

It was a walker.
A real marvel of its' age.

Damaged, it was ...

I know not, when.

I remember it from my youth.

It, with its' sister,
hung on mommas wall.

Luved them, she did,
Luved us too.

Momma cared for the dolls,
as she cared for us.

When I see the dolls,
I remember to care, 

for the damaged,
the forgotten,
the unluved,
and the broken.

For Momma and I were broken too.

The church, universal, nourished, in the wilderness

 "Behold, I do not bring it to destroy that 

which they have received,  but to build it up. 

And for this cause have I said: 

If this generation harden not their hearts, 
I will establish my church among them.  
Now I do not say this to destroy my church, 
but I say this to build up my church; 

Therefore, whosoever belongeth to my church need not fear,  for such shall inherit the kingdom of heaven."

  "And the woman fled to the wilderness, 
where she had a place prepared by God 
where she would be sustained... "

how long did she linger there,
their in the wilderness

nestled by the fire,
     of his writers and poets.

concealed was she,  there, nourished. 

when to come forth,
and replenish the earth?

   Milton unearthed her,
concealed among the poets.

"Say Heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein [ 15 ]
Afford a present to the Infant God?
Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein,
To welcom him to this his new abode,"

The Devils built a city in Hell,

called it Pandemonium.

Did they arrive in Hell, 

or bring it with them.

Let no one wonder, 

the truth they uncovered, their.

The truth of their own damnation.

 "And dig'd out ribs of Gold. Let none admire [ 690 ]
That riches grow in Hell; "

 "That underneath had veins of liquid fire  [ 701 ] ...

Severing each kind, and scum'd the Bullion dross:"

    Let no man question, then,

    How he reached his church, 

    and nourished her, in the wilderness

    till revealed again,
    in the wilderness, she remained,

    to be brought forth .
    in all her restoration, and glory.

(The Doctrine and Covenants, Section 10:50-55)

(Revelations 12:6)

(John Milton, On the Morning of Christ's Nativity) Compos'd 1629

(John Milton, Paradise Lost Book i)

Elousia, In her womb ..

"... with mighty wings outspread, 

Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast Abyss, 

And mad'st it pregnant:" 

Their I rest ...
In her womb.

The bosom of the father.

Like the great egg. 

I rest ...

To be embraced, and luved.

To come forth, and return.

When ready I am.

She "upbraideth not"

My false starts.

But looks forward to, when, 

I fly.

John Milton, Paradise Lost Book i

On RACHAM : Hebrew, mercy, bosom, womb

Papa: The Shack, William Paul. Young

Elousia; the name that  Paul gives to the feminine define.

On the Bastardization of English by the vulgar folk ...

       

       "Zeal to promote the common good, whether it be by devising anything ourselves, or revising that which hath been laboured by others, deserveth certainly much respect and esteem, but yet findeth but cold entertainment in the world. It is welcomed with suspicion instead of love, and with emulation instead of thanks: and if there be any hole left for cavil to enter, (and cavil, if it do not find a hole, will make one) it is sure to be misconstrued, and in danger to be condemned. This will easily be granted by as many as know story, or have any experience. For, was there ever any thing projected, that savoured any way of newness or renewing, but the same endured many a storm of gainsaying, or opposition? A man would think that Civility, wholesome Laws, learning and eloquence, Synods, and Church-maintenance, (that we speak of no more things of this kind) should be as safe as a Sanctuary, and out of shot, as they say, that no man would lift up the heel, no, nor dog move his tongue against the motioners of them. For by the first, we are distinguished from brute beasts lead with sensuality; By the second, we are bridled and restrained from outrageous behaviour, and from doing of injuries, whether by fraud or by violence; By the third, we are enabled to inform and reform others, by the light and feeling that we have attained unto ourselves; Briefly, by the fourth being brought together to a parley face to face, we sooner compose our differences than by writings which are endless; And lastly, that the Church be sufficiently provided for, is so agreeable to good reason and conscience, that those mothers are holden to be less cruel, that kill their children as soon as they are born, than those nursing fathers and mothers (wheresoever they be) that withdraw from them who hang upon their breasts (and upon whose breasts again themselves do hang to receive the Spiritual and sincere milk of the word) livelihood and support fit for their estates. Thus it is apparent, that these things which we speak of, are of most necessary use, and therefore, that none, either without absurdity can speak against them, or without note of wickedness can spurn against them.  

Yet for all that, the learned know that certain worthy men have been brought to untimely death for none other fault, but for seeking to reduce their countrymen to good order and discipline; and that in some Commonwealths it was made a capital crime, once to motion the making of a new Law for the abrogating of an old, though the same were most pernicious; And that certain, which would be counted pillars of the State, and patterns of Virtue and Prudence, could not be brought for a long time to give way to good Letters and refined speech, but bare themselves as averse from them, as from rocks or boxes of poison; And fourthly, that he was no babe, but a great clerk, that gave forth (and in writing to remain to posterity) in passion peradventure, but yet he gave forth, that he had not seen any profit to come by any Synod, or meeting of the Clergy, but rather the contrary; And lastly, against Church-maintenance and allowance, in such sort, as the Ambassadors and messengers of the great King of Kings should be furnished, it is not unknown what a fiction or fable (so it is esteemed, and for no better by the reporter himself, though superstitious) was devised; Namely, that at such a time as the professors and teachers of Christianity in the Church of Rome, then a true Church, were liberally endowed, a voice forsooth was heard from heaven, saying: Now is poison poured down into the Church, etc. Thus not only as oft as we speak, as one saith, but also as oft as we do anything of note or consequence, we subject ourselves to everyone's censure, and happy is he that is least tossed upon tongues; for utterly to escape the snatch of them it is impossible. If any man conceit, that this is the lot and portion of the meaner sort only, and that Princes are privileged by their high estate, he is deceived. As the sword devoureth as well one as the other, as it is in Samuel [2 Sam 11:25], nay as the great Commander charged his soldiers in a certain battle, to strike at no part of the enemy, but at the face; And as the King of Syria commanded his chief Captains to fight neither with small nor great, save only against the King of Israel: [1 Kings 22:31] so it is too true, that Envy striketh most spitefully at the fairest, and at the chiefest. David was a worthy Prince, and no man to be compared to him for his first deeds, and yet for as worthy as act as ever he did (even for bringing back the Ark of God in solemnity) he was scorned and scoffed at by his own wife [2 Sam 6:16]. Solomon was greater than David, though not in virtue, yet in power: and by his power and wisdom he built a Temple to the Lord, such a one as was the glory of the land of Israel, and the wonder of the whole world. But was that his magnificence liked of by all? We doubt of it. Otherwise, why do they lay it in his son's dish, and call unto him for easing of the burden, Make, say they, the grievous servitude of thy father, and his sore yoke, lighter. [1 Kings 12:4] Belike he had charged them with some levies, and troubled them with some carriages; Hereupon they raise up a tragedy, and wish in their heart the Temple had never been built. So hard a thing it is to please all, even when we please God best, and do seek to approve ourselves to everyone's conscience."

(Preface King James Version in the edition of 1611)

This is good standard 15th century English.  I can understand very little of it.  It is not the language of the common or Vulgar people.  It was written in a time when the language of the court was French or Latin.  The church was unwilling to produce a Bible in English because it was doubted the English Language had sufficient linguistic capacity to convey difficult theological subjects.

A generation before, William Tyndale began a project to demonstrate that the language of the vulgar, or common, English could transmit gospel teachings. 

  "The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ the son of God.  As it is written in the prophets, Behold, I send my messenger before thy face which shall prepare thy way before thee; The voice of a crier in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. John did baptise in the wilderness, and preach the baptism of repentance, for the remission of sins.  And all the land of Jewry, and they of Jerusalem went out unto him, and were all baptised of him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.  John was clothed with camel's hair, and with a girdle of a beast's skin about his loins. And he did eat locusts and wild honey, and preached, saying, "A stronger than I cometh after me, whose shoe latchet I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose. I have baptised you with water: but he shall baptise you with the holy ghost." 

  (Mark Chapter 1)

This is a good standard street level language of the English People.  It is easily read with rhyme and meter.

The Language of the English is a combination of Language of the Germans, Angles, Celts, and the Norman French conquerors.  It was ruled by Rome for 300 years but it did not develop a Latin Language.

I know we often disparage the change in the English Language as the common folk create, change and mold it.  Twitter, texting, and Facebook have strongly shaped the language in the current generation.  Even as The Tyndale Translation and English Common Book of Prayer shaped and molded 16-17th century English.

The ability of the English Language to shape and mold itself to the needs of the rising generation while retaining its ability to communicate ageless thought is part of why it is the dominant language in the world today.

The drink, ... with a friend.

In it comes, out it goes.

A confession, or renewal.

The invitation.

To return, thus, it is.

Now to renew, the journey.

Hope of a rebirth, of the covenant.

Thus a trade, a restoration.

The end, of the beginning.

5-28-2017

On the power of myth.

"Go back to the darkest roots of civilization and you will find them knotted round some sacred stone or encircling some sacred well. People first paid honour to a spot and afterwards gained glory for it. Men did not love Rome because she was great. She was great because they had loved her." (G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy)

 The stories of Luke Skywalker or Han Solo are the sacred myth of my generation. Though set "Long ago and far, far away" They are the sacred fire we built our culture around.

Another is the story of Adam and Eve. This story has transformed my relationship with my mother. Thus the power of this myth.

Eve was a woman who desired to have children. In her desire to have children, she became broken. In this brokenness we now live. Eve sacrificed her presence with God so I could be born.

My mom and I have a difficult relationship. We are both broken souls. It is the power of the Eve myth that rebuilds our relationship. I value  the sacrifices offered by her,  her mother, and her mother's mother, to create my life. This gratitude has driven me, to restore my relationship, with my mother.

These sacrifices , are not in theory.  These sacrifices, are in fact. My mother's family have collected these stories. I know their names and birthplace to at least 7 generations. I have their stories. The babies, they lost. The husbands they buried. They are real to me.

Thus, the power of the Eve myth to shape and forge, mine and my mothers relationship. 

These myths tie me to my mothers, for all time.

When she, was part, of him ...

their she was, in him, Adam
did he not see her.

she was a part of him,
but he was alone.

all of creation had a companion,
he did not, or so it seamed, to him.

then came the separation,
now she was not part of him.

now he was not alone,
or so it seamed to him.

now, through all eternity,
he must strive,
to return,
to when, she was part of him.

To'be less, is more. ver 2.0

To be grateful is,
To be grateful for.

This more, I seek,

Then, less I am,

T'is this I seek

To be less ...

then, more.

The more I am,
The more I seek.

The more I seek,
The less I am.

Till then I am,
To'be no more.

I will seek,
Then less of more.

To then I 'come,
All the more.

it is a twilight

a ris'n or a setting mourn

no more they mourn
when gone, i am
who will mourn
in the mor'n
or in eve,
the twilight
is it a rising
or  a setting mourn.

This, new feeling, so long ago.

What was it she said,
...this, now, so long ago.

It seamed new, and fresh,
...this, now, so long ago.

this feeling was old, yet new

this feeling, of yester-year

was it lost,
or was it found

This feeling, I never knew,
...this, now, so long ago.

Steven Bassett
April 2015

To be, less is more.

To be grateful is,
To be grateful for.

This more I seek.
Then is it more?

The more I become,
The less I am.

T'is this I seek
To be less, then more..

The more I am,
The more I seek.

The more I seek,
The less I am.

Till then I am,
To'be no more.

I will seek,
Then less of more

To then I 'come,
All the more.

Steven Basset
April 2015

The choice, She made.

She luv'd him,
but why.

This then, the many years.

If luv is a verb ...

Then luv him, she did.

Many actions, through the years.

He knew, no children,
might be their lot.

Still ...

She luved him.

Accepted her, he did ...
only to discover, it was,
he not her.

Then came the gift, of the two.

But would he be,
the one, she choose, always ...
,to luv.

This then, must be ...
,his choice, to serve her, then ...
he must, and choose

This luv, daily.

Still, know I not.

Still know I not,

The poetry,
Comes forth.

Long did it rest,
Rest, in My soul

Then whence,

 was it, still.

Their it,  to lie, 

the truth, it no more.

Then more, no less,

It ly'th,  no more.

The Talent, To cultivate.

To be'still my soul,
Come'th it now..

Invited I not,
yet come'th, then forth.

This talent, long buried ...
lay dormant it still.

To this, then the garden...
the garden, my soul.

Tragedy, brought for'th,
To cultivate, thus,

This, to the muze,
be grateful, ther'by.

Still know, I not then

From whence,
doeth it come.

Come'th it does,
To now and then

Then and now
come'th it still

still to my heart
come'th it now

Still doeth it come
To'be quiet my soul

My soul to be'stilll
Doth quiet it now.

To reveal is to hide
Remaith their, still.

April 4, 2016

The Tau, of Stev,

It came at a great cost,
The Tao, of Stev,

Momma full of pain.
Papa,  lost his mind.
Brother, not certain, of love.

Two sister's,  struggled, to find a place,
... and each other.

How does one struggle?
... for a Tao.

He thought he found it,
... in the church that supported, him, them.

More discoveries, on the mission,
to Mississippi.

A wife.

Two children ...
Gifts from one, who loved them.

Then, the car accident,
... the cancer returns.

He lost it all,
in the deepest part, of his soul.

How to recover, the Tao ...
,saught he then.

, ... still does now.

The circumcision

To the doctor we go, today.

Today, is the circumcision.

He is 73, I am 51.

51 years ago he made, the choice...
... the same for me.

Now I make choices, for him ...
... for us?

In ancient Israel, it was the sign,
... of the covenant.

Now it is a sign, of ministrations,
... mine, for him.

Once he made the choices for me,
... now I make them for him.

We both did choose,
... of love, and care.

Then with choice,

... comes,

... redemption.

Of both, have come,
... sins.

Of ignorance,
... and choice.

With redemption, comes ...

... forgiveness,

... learning, 

... and joy.

He is helping me,
... to understand, his choices,
... and mine.

To heal, a broken soul

I am damaged goods .
Born defective..
Of broken soul's.

Young they were...
these broken soul's.

They sought to repair us...
the doctor's ...
... and the priests.

This long time ...
... they have sought our souls.

He was broken too.

Broken by the ones,
he sought to redeem.

In this brokenness,
...then beyond redemption, are we?

Then on, to redemption, 

this journey, then we seek

Then to serve,
... in our brokenness,
... is what remains.

The drive, to rescue, a soul.

Many years ago, it was, the drive.

Planned not was it.

Who would have planned, this drive.

He luv'd the boy.

Had since their youth.

He was the son, he might never have.

How does one walk, into a court room.

To send one, where, the boy is now.

This then, the van, was purchased.

Then loaded, was it, not, now ...

Then off, to rescue, the boy.

Others, were, their not, in the van too.

The parents who raised him, as their own.

I would not, after, this drive be permitted, to visit, him.

Then in the van, I would sit,my wife and I, waiting ...

Hoping, the boy, would feel our luv, through the razor wire.

This crime was horrible, but he was not the crime.

To separate the boy, from the crime, this was his goal.

Years later, the crime, is not remembered.

Forgiveness and healing have come, to them, all.