Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 You the one filling this space pressing in so urgently I cannot catch my breath. Waiting is interminable, filled with longing and anguish. You rearrange your presence; I hold pain. The struggle to give you space reveals my smallness. Only yielding to Body/Spirit Breath can carry me now through this portal- my yes to searching for your always new bright eyes in everything I behold.

 Gratitude Is a language. Even this barren maple Outside my window Knows it, Her whispering musical And exquisite. Slowly I learn Her song.

Early morning darkness beckons. Wrapped in robe and last-quarter moonlight, I stand, pulled by a cold simplicity toward the threshold of myself - edge of starlight, edge of stable - where resounds the ancient Gloria.