Metaphors are written into the wind, the forests, the seasons, the oceans, the sunsets, the rivers, the stars...... What a gift to be able to capture them, contemplate them, and celebrate them!
From my frost covered window
I watch a lonesome bird contemplate
His reflection in an icy puddle.
Thin feathers, hardly a heavy jacket for this biting day,
Shield his naked soul from the death of winter.
Why has he lingered?
Gone are his fellow choir members.
Gone is the summer symphony.
He solos forgotten melodies into the silence of a snowy day
He chants carols from a spindly branch that wheezes as it bows..
I study this solitary bugler in awe.
He is a fighter
Not a comfort lover.
An independent thinker.
Not a follower.
He is one who chooses the path of most resistance,
One made strong by his very choices.
Undaunted by stormy threats and the howling mockery of the wind,
He announces life in the midst of death.
An unrelenting watchman on a wall,
He is the herald of spring time.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Spell Breaker
Some truths are timeless, I find that this is one of them.
SPELL BREAKER
An abyss of eternal span
Is centered in the dark of man.
It haunts his soul and echoes through
The wall-less wall and view-less view.
It taunts the very core of him
Until he fills the pit with sin
And then, it echoes louder still
Appealing to his heart and will.
But nothing of a mortal span
Can fill the dark that lurks in man.
For man can not so break the spell
That’s bound his soul down into hell.
And yet a blade that rips the night
Is wielded by the prince of light
Who knows no fear of mortal chains
Nor cowers from the dark domains.
For he has written life on death
And placed in man eternal breath
And in the hollow of the span
Has spoken truth back into man.
SPELL BREAKER
An abyss of eternal span
Is centered in the dark of man.
It haunts his soul and echoes through
The wall-less wall and view-less view.
It taunts the very core of him
Until he fills the pit with sin
And then, it echoes louder still
Appealing to his heart and will.
But nothing of a mortal span
Can fill the dark that lurks in man.
For man can not so break the spell
That’s bound his soul down into hell.
And yet a blade that rips the night
Is wielded by the prince of light
Who knows no fear of mortal chains
Nor cowers from the dark domains.
For he has written life on death
And placed in man eternal breath
And in the hollow of the span
Has spoken truth back into man.
Light to Man
One of the great joys in my life is seeing God. And, I do. Everywhere!
Light to Man
You’ve sketched your name across the sky
In letters that defy the eye.
You’ve carved your love on every tree,
Despite the fact that man can’t see.
For in every flower there’s a clue
Of who you are and what you do.
Through every bird that takes its wing
And every warbler taught to sing,
You show the world how much you care,
That love is penned upon the air.
Yet eyes of man remain so blind,
In all the truth he seeks to find.
Why is it that he does not know
That sunsets don’t just happen so?
That butterflies can’t take their wing
Apart from thought built into Spring.
Every house must have a plan,
Then, how much more the mind of man?
What is this veil that clothes the eyes?
And changes truth to look like lies?
How is it that he looks so hard
To find his worth and earn reward?
Yet, hidden in the depths of sin
Is all that blinds the truth from him.
For selfishness has laid the curse
And made the darkness all the worse.
So, what can change this plight of man
That death and doom hold in their hand?
The artist of the dancing stars?
Can he remove these hidden bars?
The author of the whale’s sweet song
Can he undo this course of wrong?
The one who causes wintry nights
To craft the stage for northern lights?
Yes…he’s the one to tear the veil
And make the dark of dark to pale,
To penetrate the heart of man
With light that so reveals the plan.
And, he’s the one to right the wrong
Then sing back into man the song.
For he’s the only one who can,
Bring man to light and light to man.
Light to Man
You’ve sketched your name across the sky
In letters that defy the eye.
You’ve carved your love on every tree,
Despite the fact that man can’t see.
For in every flower there’s a clue
Of who you are and what you do.
Through every bird that takes its wing
And every warbler taught to sing,
You show the world how much you care,
That love is penned upon the air.
Yet eyes of man remain so blind,
In all the truth he seeks to find.
Why is it that he does not know
That sunsets don’t just happen so?
That butterflies can’t take their wing
Apart from thought built into Spring.
Every house must have a plan,
Then, how much more the mind of man?
What is this veil that clothes the eyes?
And changes truth to look like lies?
How is it that he looks so hard
To find his worth and earn reward?
Yet, hidden in the depths of sin
Is all that blinds the truth from him.
For selfishness has laid the curse
And made the darkness all the worse.
So, what can change this plight of man
That death and doom hold in their hand?
The artist of the dancing stars?
Can he remove these hidden bars?
The author of the whale’s sweet song
Can he undo this course of wrong?
The one who causes wintry nights
To craft the stage for northern lights?
Yes…he’s the one to tear the veil
And make the dark of dark to pale,
To penetrate the heart of man
With light that so reveals the plan.
And, he’s the one to right the wrong
Then sing back into man the song.
For he’s the only one who can,
Bring man to light and light to man.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Life is journey full of all kinds of twists and turns many of which we do not foresee... suffering,we find, comes to all of us at some point in our lives...no matter who we are It is both unpredictable and unavoidable. But the longer I live, the more I see that it is not what comes to us in this life that determines who we go on to become but rather what we do with what comes to us that determines our trajectory, the course of our destiny,and the depth of our character. The following poem was written in a moment of darkness. But, how grateful I am for the darkness; it has made me strong.
Encircled by the Light
Encircled by a force of light
Sheltered in a hand of might
No evil filters through to me
But what is given that to be
A testing ground to make me grow
A proving place that I might show
To all the unseen worldly guests
My faith is not because I am blessed
But rather it’s a constant choice
To turn from self and still rejoice
When all about me falls apart
And Satan sends his fiery darts
When all is lost and black’s the night
When trouble comes to block my sight
I’ll reach my hands up to the sky
And break the silence with my cry
Then he will brush away my tears
Soothe my soul and calm my fears
Much stronger then, yes, I will be
And then these warriors too will see
That though their ruler rules the night
I stand encircled by the light.
Dana M. Seale
Encircled by the Light
Encircled by a force of light
Sheltered in a hand of might
No evil filters through to me
But what is given that to be
A testing ground to make me grow
A proving place that I might show
To all the unseen worldly guests
My faith is not because I am blessed
But rather it’s a constant choice
To turn from self and still rejoice
When all about me falls apart
And Satan sends his fiery darts
When all is lost and black’s the night
When trouble comes to block my sight
I’ll reach my hands up to the sky
And break the silence with my cry
Then he will brush away my tears
Soothe my soul and calm my fears
Much stronger then, yes, I will be
And then these warriors too will see
That though their ruler rules the night
I stand encircled by the light.
Dana M. Seale
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Over the course of my life, I have learned that instead of wealth making a person happy it is happiness that makes a person wealthy. I once heard that a person's wealth consists of that which he or she is able to appreciate. My ability to live in the moment and appreciate the gifts that I receive each day is what makes me feel both happy and wealthy. Counting my money... no matter how little or how much... does not give me nearly the joy and satisfaction as counting my blessings. Taking time to give thanks to God as I count my blessings before a meal and before I close my eyes at night has become a great way of accumulating wealth. And,I of all people, feel myself to be the richest woman in the world. "The Best things in Life are Free" is a manuscript for a picture book that I hope to publish someday.(It is the polished version of the former entry, "If I Were Poor."
The Best Things in Life are Free
If I were poor, as poor could be,
I still would own the roaring sea,
And all the shells that wash to me,
I’d serve as china for my tea.
And I would own the starry sky
That glistens in the night so high,
And all the falling stars I’d see
Would be as wishes meant for me.
I’d watch the moonlight gloss the lake
On every tumbling rolling wake.
I’d sniff the daisies wild and free
That dance in wind and call to me.
I’d taste the rain that falls in drops
And squish the soil of summer crops.
I’d snuggle with the winter sun
And throw a snowball just for fun.
I’d find relief in summer breeze
And study life through busy bees.
Then find a tree to call my own
And that would be my summer home.
If I had nothing more at all
But heard the hooting owl’s call
Amidst the sound of night time crickets
Chiming from the nearby thickets,
Then I should feel myself to be
As one who owns the very key
To treasures that this life holds dear
For all I’d ever want is here.
The Best Things in Life are Free
If I were poor, as poor could be,
I still would own the roaring sea,
And all the shells that wash to me,
I’d serve as china for my tea.
And I would own the starry sky
That glistens in the night so high,
And all the falling stars I’d see
Would be as wishes meant for me.
I’d watch the moonlight gloss the lake
On every tumbling rolling wake.
I’d sniff the daisies wild and free
That dance in wind and call to me.
I’d taste the rain that falls in drops
And squish the soil of summer crops.
I’d snuggle with the winter sun
And throw a snowball just for fun.
I’d find relief in summer breeze
And study life through busy bees.
Then find a tree to call my own
And that would be my summer home.
If I had nothing more at all
But heard the hooting owl’s call
Amidst the sound of night time crickets
Chiming from the nearby thickets,
Then I should feel myself to be
As one who owns the very key
To treasures that this life holds dear
For all I’d ever want is here.
Monday, January 18, 2010
If I Were Poor
If I were poor
As poor could be
I still would own the roaring sea.
And all the shells that came to me
I’d serve as china for my tea.
If I had nothing to my name
And claimed not one small bit of fame
I still would own the starry sky
And all the jewels that hang so high.
If all I had was just a bit
But had the freedom just to sit,
I’d sniff the daisies, wild and free
That dance in wind and call to me
I’d taste the rain that falls in drops
And sniff the soil of summer crops.
I’d snuggle with the winter sun
And throw a snowball just for fun
If I were poor
As poor could be
Life would still be kind to me
For all my treasures would be free.
If I were poor
As poor could be
I still would own the roaring sea.
And all the shells that came to me
I’d serve as china for my tea.
If I had nothing to my name
And claimed not one small bit of fame
I still would own the starry sky
And all the jewels that hang so high.
If all I had was just a bit
But had the freedom just to sit,
I’d sniff the daisies, wild and free
That dance in wind and call to me
I’d taste the rain that falls in drops
And sniff the soil of summer crops.
I’d snuggle with the winter sun
And throw a snowball just for fun
If I were poor
As poor could be
Life would still be kind to me
For all my treasures would be free.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Ginkgo Tree
It is my prayer that my life will be as a ginkgo tree, flaming with color, dancing in the wind, offering my greatest gift to the world even as the cool winds of fall are beginning to blow through final chapters of my life story.
Holiness is often found where we least expect it...in the whisper of truth as one searches the depth of the stars, in the presence of sound as one drinks in the lyrics of silence, in the innocence that clothes the heart of a child as he or she seeks to understand death, in the gift of repentance and forgiveness from one whose heart has been broken....
And it is in in our search for the holy that we catch a glimpse of Him...the creator of the universe...the lover of our souls. Elusive moments of captured splendor... captured but only fleetingly so....captured by us yet given freely by him. Serendipitous. Unrepeatable.
May the prose and poetry that I post hang a window in the heavens that we might gather holy moments for our mundane journeys.
And you will be searching for me and I will be there, when you have gone after me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13
Holiness
Holiness is often found where we least expect it...in the whisper of truth as one searches the depth of the stars, in the presence of sound as one drinks in the lyrics of silence, in the innocence that clothes the heart of a child as he or she seeks to understand death, in the gift of repentance and forgiveness from one whose heart has been broken....
And it is in in our search for the holy that we catch a glimpse of Him...the creator of the universe...the lover of our souls. Elusive moments of captured splendor... captured but only fleetingly so....captured by us yet given freely by him. Serendipitous. Unrepeatable.
May the prose and poetry that I post hang a window in the heavens that we might gather holy moments for our mundane journeys.
And you will be searching for me and I will be there, when you have gone after me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13
Winter Requiem
Silence hovers over still waters
Mirrored on this glossy canvas are barren branches
Winter has harvested the final vestiges of fall.
And, seated in silence, I join this holy requiem of nature.
A windless hush ushers in reverence for simplicity, strength and perseverance.
Noble fruit of harsh temperatures.
Towering skeletons that were once lush, verdant and vibrant with life
Stand naked in humiliation
These holy warriors are my mentors
Reminding me that when life is cold and winds are relentless,
I must stand tall though naked and humiliated
Silent but unyielding to adversity
For spring will come again.
Dana M. Seale
January 2004
November on
Terracotta, pumpkin, brown, sweeps the wind and noble ground,
Brilliance rides this heightened glory
Leaves like pages
Tell a story
Of verdant lives once fresh and strong,
Now weathered remnants
of a winter song.
Precursors to a certain death,
Yet still they dance in nature’s breath
Undaunted by their winter foes
They waltz on wind in wordless prose.
Dana M. Seale
November 19, 2008
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Welcome
This is a blog I created for my mother, so that she might be able to share with the world the wisdom which she has so graciously given to me.
- Jonathan Seale
- Jonathan Seale
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