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A horn of plenty spills from your hands into the starved lives of millions.
Aberjhani
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Aberjhani
Age: 67
Born: 1957
Born: July 8
Blogger
Columnist
Historian
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Photographer
Savannah
Georgia
Jeffery Jerome Lloyd
Millions
Lives
Hands
Starved
Love
Horn
Spills
Horns
Plenty
Charity
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Beneath the armor of skin/and/bone/and/mind most of our colors are amazingly the same.
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Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.
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Careful studies of cases dealing with supposed 'mental disorder' have at times revealed that many thought to be insane or warped in some fashion were actually simply highly sensitive individuals. What they suffered from was not mental debilitation, but personal and communal ignorance of psychic reality.
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Dreams dress us carefully in the colors of power and faith.
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Most people are slow to champion love because they fear the transformation it brings into their lives. And make no mistake about it: love does take over and transform the schemes and operations of our egos in a very mighty way.
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Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream was a manifestation of hope that humanity might one day get out of its own way by finding the courage to realize that love and nonviolence are not indicators of weakness but gifts of significant strength.
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Time (again, Time) like the soul, wears many faces, many bodies and climates and attitudes. The past is one face, the present a second and the future yet another.
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What a lover’s heart knows let no man’s brain dispute.
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Then came the healing time, hearts started to shine, soul felt so fine, oh what a freeing time it was.
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This fire that we call Loving is too strong for human minds. But just right for human souls.
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Such are these places where lovers of bliss behold the angel of peace
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September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.--from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001
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Many people can rightfully claim, as much as anyone can rightfully claim anything, that much of their lives have been spent stumbling through a cloud of cluelessness.
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This is what our love is––a sacred pattern of unbroken unity sewn flawlessly invisible inside all other images, thoughts, smells, and sounds.
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Here are lips of flame eager to be extinguished by love's liquid sigh.
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'Mixtape' is a very appropriate word to include in the title of Goran Hugo Olsson's film because it includes a rich mixture of cultural voices. They speak across different dividing lines such as those of haves and have-nots, youth and maturity, black and white, national and global, and the past and the present.
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Compassion crowns the soul with its truest victory.
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An outrageous instinct to love and be loved blinded your arms to lines of propriety––Women and Men, Christians and Jews, Muslims and Buddhists, white, black, red, brown. An outrageous instinct to love and be loved executed your brain every hour on the hour.
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Love, Mercy, and Grace, sisters all, attend your wounds of silence and hope.
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You are the hybrids of golden worlds and ages splendidly conceived.
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