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Unforgiven Rapture

Now That You Are Infinite

Transcendence of Fury

What Little I Know

One With the Never-ending

Earthbound Supernova

The Majesty of Destruction

In the Infinite Now

Why We Love Dogs (A Little Something in Celebration of National Dog Day)

Postcards from Eons Past (Images from the James Webb Space Telescope)

Sanctuary of Flame

Microcosm

Glistening in the Dark

Walnut

On the Trail Between Orchids and the Otherworld

Words Like Smoke and Sand

The First Iris

The Totality of You

Winter Meditation

The Language of Wonder

Storms of Jupiter

Digital Chains

Plunging to Heaven

On the Shores of Cepheus

Why We Love Dogs (A micropoem)

Ascension in Gold

Crucible of Light

In the Last Green Hours

The Angels of Hawksbill Mountain

Beyond the Gates of Orion

Sanctuary Within

The Sacred Opulence of Abundant Joy

Sitting With Stars

Light of the Tempest

Nucleus

Follow the Birdsong

Celestial Rite

One More Moon Beside Me

Legacy of Ash

Born in a Field of Light

Resurrection in Albemarle County

Dialogue With Silence

Moving Past the Dream

Deadly and Merciful Blue

Sky Full of Legends

On the Border of Earth and Being

Who You Really Are

Council of Stars

Scattered As One

Unfinished Bridge To the Infinite

Scenes from Within

Moon of Secrets

Memories of the Kingdom

In the Church of Ordinary Miracles

Finding Religion in Sperryville

Theater of Shadow and Light

Sapphire Birth

Web of Infinity

Voices from a Choir of Stars

Traveler in the Unseen

Into the Silence

A Soft Ascent

Through a Sacred Forest

Innocent Questions

On the Bridge After a Storm

The Sound of Creation

Your Song in the Ivy

Universe Within

New Empire

Another Afterlife

Where the Wind Lives

Another Kind of Prayer

Indigo Fire

Last Inch of Flame

Blue Home

Sacred Crone

What the Deer Understands

Some Water Lilies I Used to Know

Gates of Orion

Requiem for Yesterday

In a Moment of Understanding

April Snow

Symphony in Sable

Justice Denied

Gossip

Graduation Day

Fire from a Distant Life

Frozen Retreat

Welcome Jack

Remembering Spring

 

Sanctuary of Flame



First light.
That's when sobbing winds could be
anything: ancestors, messengers, angels,
perhaps, as another grinding night and another
star screen, seared with mysteries that could
drive us to madness, blurs into a new life and
everything that seemed so urgent is lost somewhere
in radioactive pink and pale leaves reveling against
a city of flame and layered worlds.

Of course, God shows up, but this is not the God they
gave me; this is not the robed, fleecy, convenient, sensible
deity that stayed tucked between the covers of an heirloom
book—
between the lamp and the remote control—
the one that only came out when summoned, usually once a week,
but this one is wild and laughing and announces fine art at
every turn and appears as a fire-spun morning or even
shadows that give light its meaning.

This one is oddly human when I need that image, but
usually It's an endless, vaporous, tender awareness, less
interested in praise than in being Its creations, and when
touched by this clarity, even for a moment, I'm polished like
river stones by wonder—
almost joy, if only I could bear it,
but it's enough to turn fists into open hands,
thirst into inner rain and pain into my road back home.

The pond receives the sky like an offering,
a sacrament,
a chalice of gold.

Patricia Joan Jones










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