Tag Archives: #grace

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Resonance

by Liam

When my heart attunes to fields aspace,

Where gratitude, in love with silence blend,

Abundance moves through thought’s reflective place

And insights of the spirit mend.

Compassion lifts my veil of inner sight,

Appreciation warms my fleeting breath;

Understanding turns my mind toward the light

And love dissolves my fear of death.

Within a chorus where mindful thoughts do flow,

Cognition grows brighter in my living dream;

Introspection’s lantern starts to glow

And wakes me, the dreamer deeper in the dream.

Through inner light, the path of being shines more clear,

And finds the timeless present now and here.

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The Shape of Love

by Liam 

When it’s the moon and stars I seek,

I ask the night

to hold me in its sight.

I wander

fragile,

worn,

weak.

relearning my name,

learning how to speak again

learning how to play the game

I place a rose into your hand

It’s not my thorns

that make you bleed.

It’s the way my gaze

unmasks what you had planned

Because truth,

truth cuts sharper,

sharper than anything I ever meant to hide

I trace my faults

in crooked lines,

insecurities carved across my bleeding mind

Every misjudgment

steals a little more sight,

until

bite by bite

I start losing

the one I was holding,

holding onto inside

I said I named my self

I said every choice was mine alone

I named my path

I named you too

But freedom frays

where hearts betray

and consequence,

consequence redraws us

whether we’re ready or not

And still….

like quiet dawn

melting midnight blue

your love

revives my world

Not by saving me

but by showing me

the shape

I’d forgotten

was already true

was already me

was already you.

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The Apparel of God

by Liam

Appear as you are to your self 

Be as your Self appears to you

Apparently, appearance is appealing so

Be not appalled by the apparel of personality 

By the fleeing foe stifling your awakening

Awaken within yourself 

To a harmony together with God

It’s simple really, you realize self

Appearing appareled in the garb of God

We here become true, unique and fathomless.

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At the Turning of my Soul

by Liam

Some kneel only when the ground gives way,

when the night has chewed through every excuse

and the self stands stripped of its bright disguises.

There, in the ache where dignity dissolves,

a moment waits

not to accuse you,

but to breathe warmth into thy fractured name.

Others climb their days toward sunlit hills,

arms full of answered prayers,

And unfulfilled dreams.

Yet at the summit, dazzled by the view,

they mistake the panorama for the source

and bow to the feeling instead of the cognition.

What once felt given begins to feel earned,

and gratitude thins becoming ownership.

God does not favor the broken over the blessed.

It is not sin that opens the door,

nor success that seals it shut.

It is the posture of your heart

whether it bends,

whether it listens,

whether it remembers it is not the maker of its own light.

The sacred often enters sideways:

through the cracks of failure,

through the humbling of joy,

through the moments when certainty dissolves 

and wonder slips back in.

May you be saved from this arrogance of arrival

and the despair of collapse.

May you learn to recognize the sacred 

both in the bruise and in the blessing.

And may you never forget

that grace is not found at the bottom or the top,

but in the turning…

that quiet inward recognition 

where the soul finally stops performing

and allows itself to be recognized.

Remembered by the consciousness we carry.

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The Art of Love

by Liam

Have you considered loving Love itself?

Take up this blossom gently in your hands,

And lift it to your beating heart

Within this basket, Love is born;

Within we learn to love its flame.

Now warm, O warm my heart with tender light;

Cast wide the woven blanket of this dusk,

Fine-threaded with the colors of the sky.

Then let it descend to cradle restless eyes,

To still their startled, winged and wandering flight.

For here are you, and here am I,

Enraptured in the movement of one pulse

A fleeting instant, opening into time.

A moment stretches toward eternity,

While infinity shrinks to oblivion 

Yet Forever echoes the answer: 

…Love…Love…Love…

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The Art of Intention 

by Liam

Let’s open up the idea beneath each action

Uncover its means, reveal its intent.

We move, we fold, we lie,

 but why? 

because life presses upon us,

because hunger calls,

because love beckons.

Yet beneath these visible gestures,

An invisible force quickens

to life

Intent, is my hidden ember

cradled in the soul,

Glowing long before the flame.

Before the hand reaches,

before the word is spoken,

before the road is chosen,

Intent strives forward within us;

a listening,

a longing,

a subtle calling.

This yes, is deeper than fear,

remembering a horizon

Our eyes have not yet seen.

When intent is fractured,

we scatter like startled birds.

When it remains whole,

even our smallest step

rings with belonging.

So tend to your intention,

Discover it within your own depth and ask:

What future am I watering

with the light of my attention?

For the world grows

in the direction

of what we intend.

And every dawn

waits patiently

for the shape of our becoming.

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The Art of Listening

By Liam

When the world grows loud with its own undoing,

I beg, listen gently.

Listen, not to answer,

not to achieve, but to manifest.

As an echo returns to me

It carries more than the sound:

a trace of singing,

a memory of whence it came,

the warmth of you who were.l

Nothing we hear is unique.

It has moved reflecting from stone,

Across time,

through the hearts of people 

before arriving in mine.

So I pause.

I make room

I anticipate.

In that small significant moment,

something shifts

not the world all at once,

but the way I stand within it.

 And for a moment,

the future feels possible,

because I am not alone

in the listening.

But part of the process 

Of understanding who we are.

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The Fire: A Lyric

By Liam 

Beneath this fragile garment of skin

— our hidden meaning waits —

quiet,

inside the spirit.

We move through our days

gathering small pieces of light,

yet something deeper

keeps calling us

inward.

Now…

is the time

to tend to the secret fire.

Let my heart become a furnace

where sorrow transforms

and joy made pure.

Nothing given to this flame

is ever lost.

It transforms to insight,

for the journey to radiance,

no darkness can hold.

And when your days grow still,

like evening over spring water.

What remains is alchemical gold.

Clarified into its truest name:

love.

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Relearning the Shape of Me

by Liam 

When it’s the moon and stars I seek,

—I ask the night

to hold me in its sight.

I wander

fragile,

worn,

weak—

relearning my name,

learning how to see again.

I place a rose into your hand.

It’s not my thorns

that make you bleed.

It’s the way my gaze

unmasks what you had planned.

Because truth—

truth cuts sharper

than anything I ever meant to hide.

I trace my faults

in crooked lines,

insecurities carved into my mind.

Every misjudgment

steals a little more sight,

until—

bite by bite

I start losing

the one I was holding on inside.

I said I named my body.

I named my path.

I named you.

I said every choice was mine alone.

But freedom frays

where hearts betray,

and consequence—

consequence redraws us

whether we’re ready or not.

And still—

like dawn

melting midnight blue,

your love

revives my world.

Not by saving me—

but by showing me

the shape

I’d forgotten

was already true.

by

A Blessing to my Younger Me

by Liam 

Come here, my small one,

slip out from the hush of hidden rooms,

where shadows tried to teach you

you were too much, or not enough.

I have walked the years to find you,

following the bright, trembling line

of your laughter,

and the salt-trail of your tears.

I know the weight you carried,

how silence felt safer

than asking for what you needed,

how the world loomed enormous

and your heart beat

like a frightened bird

against the walls of your ribs.

Let me kneel beside you now,

and speak into that hush:

You were never wrong for feeling deeply.

Your tenderness is not a wound.

It is the place where light enters.

I have become the arms

you wished would hold you.

I am the voice that says:

It is safe, beloved.

Come into the day.

I bring you news from the far shore:

There is beauty waiting

where you once feared only dark.

The world can be gentle.

There are those who see you whole,

who hold your gaze with kindness.

In me, you have survived

and more than survived:

You have learned to bless your own scars

and call your spirit home.

So let us begin again,

hand in hand,

speaking softly

to every hidden hurt,

letting the hush be filled

with new music—

the music of a life

no longer ashamed

to shine.