by

The Light of Naserith

by Liam

Many the stars at night have been,

Yet on this night so bright was seen

A star, a stable, a manger small,

Which shone from Him down to us all.

The shepherds, kings, and those who hear—

A lamb was born from God on high.

A babe, in a manger, softly cried,

While Mary and Joseph, in awe, did sing

Songs of praise with angels’ wings

Upon heaven’s gate.

Rejoice with spheres of cosmic love—

A choir of angels from heaven above:

“He is born to all this day,

He will show mankind the way—

Of peace, of love, of humble faith.”

Let us open the gate of who we are,

Receive the gift from God’s Son afar.

Share this moment forevermore—

Let in the light; open your door.

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by

On Love

by Liam

Love is not a fleeting feeling;

It is the wild, eternal pulse of being,

The secret lily that stirs the stars,

And whispers to the roots of the earth.

It carries the ache of our human heart,

Yet spills far beyond our individual stories,

A luminous striving force, both intimate and infinite,

Woven through all that breathes and becomes.

Love is the greatest alchemist,

Binding the fragments into wholeness,

Transforming wounds to thresholds we cross,

While stilling the restless ocean of the soul.

It is the river shaping the contours of my existence,

The tide rising toward my belonging,

Always forming, unfolding, creating 

A hymn sung in the language of becoming.

Yet love remains a mystery,

Vaster than our longing can fathom,

More generous than our grasp can hold.

It is, a truth too great for words,

Living in you, in me,

And in the unbroken oneness of us all.

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by

Echo of Regret

by Liam 

I walk the path I walked before,

I walk the path I walk once more.

The same old stones, the same old trees,

The same old whispers on the breeze.

I chose, I chose, and now it stays,

The weight of nights, the cost of days.

A word unsaid, a step not taken,

A silence left, a bond forsaken.

It comes again, it comes to claim,

It calls my soul, it speaks my name.

I turn to right, but I forget

Regret, reflect, and still, regret.

The clock resets, the hour chimes,

I live the moment countless times.

I see the choice, I see it clear,

And yet I fail, year after year.

I walk the path I walked before,

I walk the path I’ll walk once more.

The circle turns, the echoes call,

Regret, regret, it holds us all.

Yet in the dark, a light is shown,

Redemption waits where seeds are thrown.

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by

The Rise Within 

by Liam

You understand, you see me so clearly,

Though knowing, I’m not feeling:

The darkness, vast and unrelenting,

Its weight drawn inward, its chaos neigh.

Consumed, digested, and transformed by healing.

Then comes the light,

Gentle at first, like a dawning promise,

Then soaring,

a shimmering flight,

My soul is unbound in a new ascent,

Each moment seeds divine intent.

It is the smiling faces,

Yours radiant with hope, that welcome the turning,

The change, the challenge, the depth of becoming see.

Through dark’s consummation,

We gather these truths anew,

Weaving from the threads, a brighter Hugh.

Until I recognize 

It’s been here,

Quiet and patient, within me all along.

For every fall, the soul must rise,

Like dawns reclaiming sparkle in my eyes.

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The Intelligence of Becoming

by Liam

Be who you are.

Let your presence rest gently in this world.

Don’t question why time drifts,

Or why rain falls heavy with sorrow.

It is your soul that spins with the flow of life,

Your mind that weaves its vast distances together.

In solitude, the mind fashions its own horizons,

Naming this fragile awareness “me.”

Yes, in that moment of recognition,

Reality is born,

Reflecting your heart’s secret garden.

Be tender with yourself,

For you are both potter and clay.

Be grateful; unfold in quiet radiance.

A flame will illuminate your way.

Laugh softly at your mistakes,

Knowing they, too, belong to your journey.

Failure is not an ending,

But a threshold,

An invitation to begin again,

And again…

Each attempt carving new pathways of thought,

Each step awakening a hidden grace.

You are what you dream.

You are what you believe.

You are what you dare to create.

Let these thoughts rise like a tide of possibilities,

Trusting in the deep intelligence of your own becoming.

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by

On Love

by Liam

Love is also more than emotion,

The pulse within all that lives,

A flame to ignite the heart of being.

An oceanic breath, enfolding gives.

Love weaves the scattered into wholeness.

Heals the jagged edges of our days.

The silent architect of our becoming,

An unseen hand shaping all our ways.

It reveals itself in small gesture,

The courage found in forgiving shame,

The depth of a gaze where love compels you,

The warmth of touch that heals the pain.

Yet all we’ve named, all we’ve known of love,

Is but a glimpse of its infinite horizon.

All ever-present, ever-giving grace,

A mystery too great to be held by heaven.

Loves weaving, threads through time and space.

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In Song

by Liam

In song, the soul takes flight,

A river of melody, endless, bright,

Filling the hollow where silence grew,

Each note a thread, each breath a hue.

You pour yourself in waves through me,

An intoxicating fragrance free,

Lingering long like twilight’s glow,

A flash of warmth the night must know.

I gather it as one gathers air,

Silent, unseen, yet living there,

A spark, a pulse, a quiet flame,

A nameless call, yet still it came.

And as the veil is drawn away,

We find the dawn of endless day.

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Resonation

by Liam

A stillness calls—

Not with sound,

Not with words or melody,

But a breath,

A pulse,

The echos of what lies beyond.

In listening, I dissolve—

A part of the hum,

The endless ringing,

A resonance folding me

Back to the source,

Forward to the now.

This is what holds—

This is what sings—

The quiet truth:

Love,

Unbroken,

Through the beloved.

No beginning, no end,

Just the rhythm of being,

Alive in the silence.

by

The Ancient Oak

by Liam

Could that ancient oak but speak,

A voice whispered hymn through mist and smoke,

Sharing the lore, the woes, the fight,

Of times when swords they smote by night.

Shields clashed loud, men screamed their pain,

Lances cracked on the battlefields plain.

But seasons turned, as seasons must,

Bones grew quiet beneath the dust.

The swords grew dull, the fires died,

And peace crept in where war had cried.

Now, my branches wide stretched with grace,

A haven for birds, create timeless space.

Yet deep within my ancient rings,

Remain echoes still of warrior kings.

Of whispered oaths, of valor’s mark,

Of life and death in the forest dark.

Had I but a voice, I’d sing it true,

To the tales of men and what they knew.

But I am oak, rooted and wise,

My stories held firm in the earth and skies.

So here I stand, through the years unbroke,

The silent sage—the ancient oak.

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by

The Blessing of a Poet

by Liam

May a poet’s insight ignite,

Your own deep flame, so outlast their time. 

Your spark, a wick, an ember of life

Will still burn long after the writer has gone.

In your hands, these words becomes a sun,

Its rays, the quiet insight of a page.

Through each thought, a luminous lens,

Dispersing your infinite circumference of wonder.

Though my body may pass onto shadowed rest,

The radiance you awaken will remain.

Threads of gold stitched into the fabric of days,

Binding hearts to horizons of yet-unspoken truth.

May these words dwell, as light in those who seek,

Find endless comfort within their depths.

And in the silence after we have spoke,

May your insights lead those others home.

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