The recovery of faith in our creativity and in the artist within each of us and the artists among all of us is no small thing. It has to do with the rekindling of the spark of hope and vision, of adventure and blessing, that a tired civilization needs...
Why do I forget You, abandon You? You who are wholeness, You who are home, always now, always present, giving what every cell in me yearns for-- to collapse into Your warm breath of Life; defenses drop, naked I be, cherished solely for my nakedness, my void, my forgetfulness.
Silence pregnant with all sounds, I come back, prodigal that I am-- bruised, tired, wired, To be undone again by Your embrace.
Why do I forget You, abandon You? You who are wholeness, You who are home, always now, always present, giving what every cell in me yearns for-- to collapse into Your warm breath of Life; defenses drop, naked I be, cherished solely for my nakedness, my void, my forgetfulness.
Silence pregnant with all sounds, I come back, prodigal that I am-- bruised, tired, wired, To be undone again by Your embrace.
