Was it a cold awakening Christmas morning?
In a wooden trough,
In spite of straw and swaddling clothes and angel songs?
That was not to be the last time you'd be laid upon the wood
(There were Herods, Judases from the start
Among the stars and shepherds).
And did they smile, those simple folk,
And kiss your tiny hands and weep delight?
They'd touch those hands again someday,
Believing you through cracks and scars.
Then oh! the million Christmas mornings
When you'd lie, a babe again,
Beneath a million million trees
And hear the countless tongues chanting your name.
And oh! the white snow on black shingles
Where icy crystals capture windows
And fires glow and mistletoe is wreathed and strung.
But ah...will they remember crimson
Dripping from the iron nails
And will they pray and will they know
A whiter white than
Snow?
- Keith Patman, "Snow"
notes from the underground: my attempt to keep the things I read in my brain
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
I do not know what to ask of You
O Lord, I do not know what to ask of You.
You alone know my true needs.
You love me more than I myself know how to love.
Help me to see my real needs which are concealed from me.
I do not dare to ask either for a cross or for consolation.
I can only wait on You. My heart is open to You.
Visit me and help me; cast me down and raise me up.
I worship in silence Your holy will and Your unsearchable ways.
I offer myself as a sacrifice to You.
I have no desire than to fulfill Your will.
Teach me to pray. Pray, You Yourself in me. Amen.
- St. Philaret of Moscow
You alone know my true needs.
You love me more than I myself know how to love.
Help me to see my real needs which are concealed from me.
I do not dare to ask either for a cross or for consolation.
I can only wait on You. My heart is open to You.
Visit me and help me; cast me down and raise me up.
I worship in silence Your holy will and Your unsearchable ways.
I offer myself as a sacrifice to You.
I have no desire than to fulfill Your will.
Teach me to pray. Pray, You Yourself in me. Amen.
- St. Philaret of Moscow
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Poland's best skiier
The cutest/sweetest song ever! Catchy too. It has a classic sound to it. Sigh. His voice is from another era or something. Apparently, this guy, Andrzej Bachleda, is Poland's best skiier...who is unbelievable at music too...! Unfortunately, I can't find any place online that sells his album...
Andrzej Bachleda, "Time Ruines"
Andrzej Bachleda, "Time Ruines"
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"It is not as a child that I believe and confess Jesus Christ. My hosanna is born of a furnace of doubt." - Fyodor Dostoevsky