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Grace Is Free

(x = space)

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Grace Is Free

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You tell me the process

That lets out grace

Into the world

I can’t begin to say

Because it is not up to me

While my knowledge says

It’s free and freely given

By one who could

Have charged a lot

Rather made it free

Who releases grace

No one but one

Who does not keep it in a jar

To be dispensed with tickets

Shining and uncornered

But ready through unnailed openings

To give it without reason

Save for an abiding, relentless

Always hoping interest

In love and salvation

Grace is free

It’s freedom

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C L Couch

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Photo by Thomas Millot on Unsplash

Selonnet, France

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Inventory

(x = space)

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Inventory

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So what shall we say,

Shall love have us

Or hate?

Shall we hate our neighbors

For their differences?

Straightforward questions

On a day when nothing new

Is under the sun

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But we can make it new,

Should we drain our scorn

Like pouring out

The rain barrel for

The change

Into nourishing places

That don’t need

To be so parched

Anymore

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We can grow

And nurture other things to grow

Until there’s verdure

In the sunshine

And the rain,

Everything growing in balance

For the change

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I write on an angry day

Because I have to alter it

I need my spirit

I should care for yours

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C L Couch

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Photo by Wolfgang Rottmann on Unsplash

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Law of Love

(x = space)

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Law of Love

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What does

God want of us?

Through the prophets,

We are told

To walk humbly

With an arch concern for

Justice,

More generally

To repent

And turn toward God,

The people

And the nation

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Through Moses

We are given

Laws from God

On Sinai,

Starting with

The ten laws that

We know,

Most of which

Tell us what not

To do

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God speaks

Through angels

And sometimes

Maybe

God speaks through us

In smaller ways,

Perhaps

One to another

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The measure,

The pendulum

That swings with ease

When set with

Accord

Should be love

That might be difficult

And hard

And sacrificial

But moves with equanimity

Respecting all

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Sometimes in silence

Bearing nonetheless

The message

Of the prophets

Of the angels

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All enact

The law of love

(James would say

the law

of freedom)

And thus

Are closing in

On what God wants

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C L Couch

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12 Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, 13 because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.

James 2 (Christian New Testament, New International Version)

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The Old Bell

Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash

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Without Further Ado

(x = space)

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Without Further Ado

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I’d like to say something

About God

Not because God needs me to

God is a spirit

God is love

These are not original things

To say

God is a lion,

The lion of Judah

Also nothing new

Though rather wondrous

God is mine

And also God is waiting

Though I think

We tend to think

That it’s the other way around

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That we wait for God

And once God arrives,

We wait on God

Sometimes the waiting

Either kind

Is cheery

Sometimes it’s not

We wait for God to relieve us

Either of comfort or

Responsibility

We wait for answers

To a local hell

That breaks our spirits

As the ground

Might break

Near a volcano

Or as a sinkhole

(we have sinkholes where

I live)

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Then to have God appear

To speak

Or touch on our hearts

But we will not serve

(that kind of waiting)

Because things have been too awful,

Thank you very much

How about

You serve me for a while,

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Which will happen

God will serve

God serves,

In fact,

To have made everything

To arrange for energy

In nature

To bring light and dark

Rain and sun

Snow in winter

Water steaming off leaves

In summer

(or all the time in tropics)

Maybe there is nothing more

God will want to do

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And yet I think

God is not only creator

But newly-creating

And creative

Explain the platypus

Or bird-of-paradise

Or human will

With the lack of it

Everywhere else

In nature

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God is many things,

Which might mean

Always new

Nearby a platypus

In grace

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C L Couch

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John 4:24, 1 John 4:3, Revelation 5:5

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Istanbul sky from September 2005.

Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash

Istanbul Sky, Istanbul, Turkey

Published on June 6, 2019

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love we do

(x = space)

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love we do

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love needs air

it needs oxygen

it needs to breathe

not love in space, perhaps

but love here

on Earth

where nature

loves the animals

where people might

love each other

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the one

the two

the many

who is

who are

the oxygen

better than the atmosphere

(though we need

the molecules),

giving air through

the heart

the brain

the stomach

even the liver and the kidneys

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giving life

and taking life

but less than giving

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c l couch

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“Love Me Do,” Lennon-McCartney

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Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Birdworld Kuranda, Rob Veivers Drive, Kuranda QLD, Australia

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Walking in Beauty, Like the Night

(x = space)

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Walking in Beauty, Like the Night

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A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

—Byron

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The only place I live

Ironically

Is in the clock

(absurdly called the grandfather),

A prisoner

Of time

And time

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There’s a dark space

Behind the weights,

Behind an ornate board

In fact, taller than I

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I listen to the clock

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I hear its beat,

Its announcements

Count the hours along

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I got good at guessing

When it’s dark

Outside,

The dark of night and mortal people

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So I might slide

As if it were amusement

Into the room night,

Of shapes and shadows,

Followed by another room

And then another

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Accommodations for

Ghosts among the living

In a place

Where both reside,

Divided places aren’t worked out

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When light touches me, I burn

And if it weren’t an issue

For the gossamer of tissue,

I would burn for shame

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Life was love

Attended

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I thought I’d be released,

But immorality

So far has judged me

Here

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Where I must hide

In filminess

And flimsiness

Inside the dark

Of this dark place

By day

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C L Couch

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This work is in response to a prompt for horror writing from Katie Metcalf who writes supernally about the dark and winter and folklore and endurance.  Here is the link for you to try at your own magickal delight:

https://wyrdwordsandeffigies.wordpress.com/2021/01/30/writing-in-the-dark-horror-writing-prompts/

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Photo by Matthew T Rader on Unsplash

Terrell, TX, USA

An old blue creepy haunted house | Please check out my blog at: matthewtrader.com/unsplash

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Midnight Sun

(x = space)

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Midnight Sun

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I can’t help but imagine

A quiet and dark place

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Maybe a church

Maybe a campsite

Maybe in the desert

Maybe a quiet place at home

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It is late

There is candlelight

And whoever’s there

And there are people there

Is praying

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They are praying for the world

As if it were outside

And in greater peril

Than experience has known

In ages

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Great hunger lurks

And plans

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But here there is silent love

Propelling urgent works

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Peace

And intercession

Then knowing what to do

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C L Couch

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Photo by Emily Hon on Unsplash

Yellowknife, Canada

Aurora shine the whole night.

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The Magician’s Children

(x = space)

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The Magician’s Children

(Christmas 2020)

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It’s a magic time

The animals will talk at midnight

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Light of many colors

Will shine inside and outside

Of hours

And tall buildings in the city

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People who don’t believe

Will be quiet for a while

Almost in honor of the child

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Christmas might be

A chore for them,

But they take the quiet anyway,

Until the noises of the morning

In the household begin

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And there are those who will be quiet

Because they are the only ones,

Each one in a home of sorts

To bring in the day

On one’s own

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Each one has a job

To send out the peace

Just beyond, until the next one

Take it,

Send it out in thought or feeling

Or a prayer

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Others will be so busy

But the lonely could do this

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Create a spirit-band across the world

Through many places,

Many nations,

Many destinations

That can’t be reached yet

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Someday, perhaps

When we have enough health,

Enough determination,

Enough interest in the risk

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Merry Christmas to each one

And from each to everyone

Live in peace for a day

And remember that a day

Can be an age

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C L Couch

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Photo by Daniil Silantev on Unsplash

Ozero Turgoyak, Челябинская область, Россия

Ice on the Lake Turgoyak

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Love of Story

Love of Story

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Mostly, we read stories

Now

To children at the end of day

Or sometimes in

A social situation when

The elements

Are undeclared and

Might surprise us, if we knew

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There are official

Storytellers, having trained

Or trained themselves,

Maybe belonging to

A kind of guild

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Mostly, the storytelling

Voice is left to books

Without our

Participation except

When reading to ourselves or

At the end of day

Or in the backyard

With our friends,

While some meat

Is cooking on the grill

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Our ancient texts

Have voices, but we do not think

Of them (or them)

So much;

Their lessons are alive,

Sometimes their prayers—but

That there are

People talking to their people

Then and to us now

Is not so much a matter,

As it might have been

Outside the book

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Is this a problem?

Well, it might be:

We might benefit from allowing for

Human presence in our

Stories—yes, our prayers—through

The ages,

Divine intrusions (or,

yes, divine inspirations)

Notwithstanding

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But these are our stories, too,

If only by intent of audience

(which is to say

they are for you, they are

for us),

Which is to say we read them, have

Them read to us:

We engage,

We respond,

We learn

Sometimes we are changed

And at any age,

In any age,

Are grown

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So keep the stories living,

Let’s tell our own

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C L Couch

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Photo by Melanie Lim on Unsplash

Bukit Bintang, Kuala Lumpur, Federal Territory of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

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