Blessings

Posted May 22, 2019 by Chris Ernest Nelson
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

In his humble head, he held
five thousand years of wisdom.
Prophets, shamans and seers
have spoken of God and
untangled great mysteries
of Spirit in Creation.

In his quiet heart, he possesses
a lifetime of revelation and
the experience of Love.
He has prayed in great churches
and in temples he has listened
to the songs of angels.

He learned that it is enough
to follow Love, like a child
follows his mother.
He recognizes her and clings
to her out of all other mothers.
He is once blessed.

If he follows Love,
and he follows the Savior;
then he is twice blessed,
because he knows love and
he knows the Savior.

If he follows Love without
knowing the Savior,
he is thrice blessed. Because
he will know Love, he will know
the perfection of Love
from Love’s own ministry,
trusting in the Truth of Love.

Then he will meet the Savior in Bliss;
and because he has followed him
to Paradise unaware…
The Savior will know him and,
as heaven rejoices,
will greet him as a friend.

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Messages

Posted May 19, 2019 by Chris Ernest Nelson
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

He heard a mystic message in the songs of birds,
a call to action in the tracks of audacious animals.

He learned to find adventure from the wild winds,
and the direction home from inconstant stars.

He caught a murmur of love in the smell of flowers,
and he divined the future in the river’s fluid flow.

He listened to questions in the majestic mountains
and found unanticipated answers in cursive clouds.

He lost his innocence among the tangled brakes,
loved bound to wide meadows and desert wastes.

He found himself the hero in a romantic tale told to
the long horizon that swallows doubt into the sea.

Here in our homes

Posted May 15, 2019 by Chris Ernest Nelson
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

Here in our homes, we have
created an artificial rage. We are
confused by our own confusion, 
our one hope is abandoned and
our good purpose perverted into
self-serving enterprises of despair.

Here in our homes, we are lonelier
than on the empty streets and the
back-allies of phobic nightmares.
We stare across the room with envy,
jealousy, and anger. We hate each
other because we hate ourselves.

Here in our homes, we make plans
for hurting our friend in retribution
for offenses we imagine, for the sake
of the stark satisfaction of being right,
when we are really wrong, because
we lost faith in the purpose of love

Such a love

Posted May 3, 2019 by Chris Ernest Nelson
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

I found you by chance 
in this moment enshrined
alive in my memory,
the day still fresh and real.

I laid claim to you with
a desire and anticipation
that inspired my world
and defined my fate.

Such a love cannot fade.
It fills to fullness every
dimension of the universe
with purpose and knowing.

Such a love is part of me,
a golden thread knit forever
deep into the fabric
of my intimate being.

God speaks

Posted May 3, 2019 by Chris Ernest Nelson
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

God speaks in Creation.
Truth is revealed.

Dare to See the Whole Sky,
not an eye to a keyhole.

Salvation is Knowing.
Redemption is Forgiving.

Love is Action,
not a Feeling.

Understanding Opens
to Wonder.

Life is Absolute and
Everlasting.

Spirit is the One
Living Being.
.

My own young self

Posted April 23, 2019 by Chris Ernest Nelson
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

My own young self often
visits me as I rest on the
evening porch, musing as
the sun dissolves into the city.
He sits close without a word,
watching the quiet west,
remembering the
love we share.

And I often find him, in
what seems a long ago,
that I may comfort him
with my gratitude for all
the things he braved for
the sake of my happiness.
He knew my dreams,
as I remember his.

My religion

Posted April 21, 2019 by Chris Ernest Nelson
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

I claim all religions
or none.
The God I know will not
be confined to a book
nor held captive in a
temple, a mosque
or a church.

Though my God has
spoken through prophets,
shamans, and saints, those
who followed the wonders
misunderstood, misdirected,
or misplaced the essence
of what they heard.

Why did Jesus, Buddha,
and Muhammed not
write their own books?
Why have their words and
their deeds been so bartered
and bent by those who
claim discipleship?

The God I know is not a
prisoner in a magic lamp.
His miracles are not carnival
tricks and His creation does
not account for the fears
and ambitions of man.
The God I know

Is so large He cannot be
contained. Whole universes
attend Him like
clouds on the wind.
Yet He is so small, He
can be lost in the grass
or carried off by birds.

I claim all religions
or none.
The God I meet today in
the science of a flower or
in the eyes of a friend,
is the God I expect to
meet in Heaven.

Let judgement come today,
with my name not written
in the book.
Let honest angels bear
witness to this simple
truth: my love is
my religion.