Monthly Archives: April 2025

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The Orchard of Us

by Liam

Walking the orchard I search with my eyes

My heart, a float with the butterflies

Searching to find that sacred spot behold

Between the blossoms, the petals your face unfolds

Inhaling fresh, 

Springs perfumed grace

You are balanced, on a blossoms face.

Whispers of laughter drift on the breeze,

Dancing like sunlight through emerald leaves.

Your face amongst petals, my dreams in the skies,

We weave our vows where eternity lies.

Under the bough where our promise grows,

Your soul is the river, my soul is the flow

Today in your left and tomorrow in your right

One seed for my lover

One fruit for my life.

A garden God grants

Who plants this Life.

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Pain

“Spoken by the quiet voice of the heart”

by Liam

When pain comes,

not as an intruder,

but as an old companion

with no name,

welcome it.

Let it sit beside you

in the soft chair of morning.

Do not ask it to explain itself.

It speaks in the language of silence,

and it knows

the hidden geography of your body.

Pain does not arrive to punish,

but to open

what was closed,

to break

what no longer serves,

to draw you

closer to that center

you had forgotten.

It peels away your armor,

not to leave you bare,

but to clothe you

in truth.

It turns your gaze inward,

where the light

waits patiently

under the ruins.

Trust these strange hands,

they do not break you,

they reshape us.

And in time,

when the ache becomes a rhythm

the rhythm turns to rhyme

you no longer fear,

you will find

beneath the wound

a wellspring,

a deeper kindness,

a fierce gratitude.

Until then,

breathe gently.

Speak your sadness to the sky.

Let the pain be part of your prayer.

For pain, too,

is a teacher,

and even in darkness,

it plants

the seeds of a new day dawning.

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The Thrum

by Liam

Just dream away, my beloved.

Let your mind’s wheel roll.

You have carried enough of thinking

those thoughts

that only shadow

the tender light of now.

Come closer to me.

Let the hush gather us in.

Ideas are too small

for the truth we share,

a truth that lives

in the excitement before a kiss,

in the glance that says 

“I see you”,

without a spoken word.

Beyond the riding moon,

I feel you, hear your joy, your singing voice,

a constellation shining into laughter.

You juggle dreams like yesterdays prayers,

offering them to the night

with hands that have known both silence and song.

And I

I am here,

dizzy in this profound stillness,

where even my breath feels sacred.

We move not with steps,

but with the soft thrum

of hearts entwined,

your rhythm beating

its gentle message o

against the door of my chest.

This is no dream.

This is the real deal,

Where we flow,

Where we glow,

And where all that remains is the thrum of it all.

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You & Me

by Liam

At the very edge of this world,

where stars lean close and listen,

where the ocean keeps the memory

of all that has passed before 

I found you

or perhaps,

you found me.

In that quietude beyond thinking 

I asked,

“Who are you?”

And you,

woven of wind and wonder,

answered,

“I am the design of this all.”

Those words rang

like truth spoken in a language

older than breath.

So I asked again,

from the deep aching of my being:

“And who am I?”

Your smile broke like dawn

over the stones of the earth.

You answered,

“The desire, you are the desire of this Design.”

Then something within me,

a gate,

a flame,

a name 

opened wide.

I laughed,

wild and full,

and leapt

into the great unknowing.

That void became a cradle,

the stars a choir,

the dark a dance.

And I moved,

weightless and whole,

as the cosmos remembered itself and me.

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What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?

Five Simple Joys of a Grandfather’s Day

The laughter of little feet on the floor, A giggle, a shout, then silence—then more. In those bright eyes, I see my youth, And in their hugs, life’s deepest truth. The morning light through curtain lace, A steaming mug, a slower pace. The world begins without a race— Just peace and time, my sacred space. Old stories worn like favorite shoes, Told again, with tender truths. A boy becomes a man once more, In tales that still my heart restore. The garden’s bloom, the bird in flight, The tools I use feel just right. Each stroke, each seed, each wooden thread— A quiet joy where thoughts are led. The sound of love in voices grown, A family strong, a life well-sown. I watch them soar, I feel them near, My legacy alive and clear.

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The Dove’s Flight

May she lift beyond the tethered hush of a twig,

Hear the heart, remember its ancient longing,

and the sky will part on the threshold of this knowing.

Let her rise into the great breath of silence,

where the winds are woven from our forgotten dreams,

and the earth below fades away like a whisper.

No cage, no shadow, only the bright veracity of flight,

Let thy soul shed that weight of yesterday,

and step across the air into the widening light.

She becomes a song of prayer,

Of grace unseen yet ever present flight,

Her spirit drawn not by fear, but by the deep, eternal call of the heart.

May she find, in the vast embrace of sky and sea,

that freedom is not in the leaving behind,

but the becoming of all she was meant to be.

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Sonnet: Skylark 

by Liam

As Skylark soars with wings embraced by blue,

This wind does sweep past and through my soul,

And as we laugh and ask, “why?”, anew,

A thousand questions do fly my mind.

For in God’s glance, I find support and grace,

To face the truth that needs to be defined,

For caught in a reflection of Heaven’s face,

My lips shall find that silent proof entwined.

Deep does truth in my soul lie.

Embedded in the bedrock of my being, 

And as I wait for wisdom’s gentle sway,

The breeze shall whisper secrets all seeing.

So patiently I wait for truth to shine,

High Skylark sings to me with melodies divine. 

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The Alchemy of Grief

by Liam

Grief is the icy tide that rises,

Rains streak upon my cheek,

its salt-washed sorrow carving deep

the fragile boundaries of all we keep.

Yet its here, in sorrow’s ache,

where we silently weep and boundaries break,

These tears fall, like silver rain,

To soften my earth for hope’s refrain.

For every thorn that tears the skin

has roots in what will bloom within,

and what was raw, unshaped, undone,

becomes new gold of a morning sun.

O alchemy, O tender grace,

heal the wound with light’s embrace

where once was loss, now beauty grows,

This soul transforms,  with a crimson rose. 🌹 

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