“You, sleeping on your bed of nails. Weeping an ocean beyond the pale. Strange, sorrow is your greatest skill. You're suffering from overkill... Choose whether to laugh or to cry. Menace and promise mingle in your eye. Wait, it's only a matter of time. You know everything will be fine... Rain falls down and the seas run high. When you're by my side we can rise above it. Let me dry all the tears inside. On your way you cannot hide from the howling wind and the roaring tide. You might get hurt but your fears will subside when you at last escape from the tears inside.” KnowsWayMatterMightEyeRunningLastsSufferingFallWaitingSidesHurtSleepLaughingSeaCryTearsStrangeWindFineSorrowPromiseBedSkillsOceanRainLet MeDown AndDryTidesPaleNailsRise AboveWeepingFalling DownMenaceRoaringMatter Of TimeRise Above ItOverkillHowling Wind Author:Tim Finn
“God is a God of galaxies, of storms, of roaring seas and boiling thunder, but He is also the God of bread baking, of a child's smile, of dust motes in the sun. He is who He is, and always shall be. Look around you now. He is speaking always and everywhere. His personality can be seen and known and leaned upon. The sun is belching flares while mountains scrape our sky while ants are milking aphids on their colonial leaves and dolphins are laughing in the surf and wheat is rippling and wind is whipping and a boy is looking into the eyes of a girl and mortals are dying.” LooksChildrenEyeGirlKnownBoysLaughingSunSeaSkyDyingWindPersonalityMountainStormBreadDustMortalsGalaxyThunderAntsBakingWheatSurfRoaringDolphinsBoilingFlareWhippingBelching Book:Death by Living: Life Is Meant to Be Spent Source: Death by Living: Life Is Meant to Be Spent
“Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.” SeaRocksWindLaysHollowBlastRoaring Book:The Poems of John Gay ... Source: The Poems of John Gay ...
“Sin is a lonely thing, a worm wrapped around the soul, shielding it from love, from joy, from communion with fellow men and with God. The sense that I am alone, that none can hear me, none can understand, that no one answers my cries, it is a sickness over which, to borrow from Bernanos, “the vast tide of divine love, that sea of living, roaring flame which gave birth to all things, passes vainly.” Your job, it seems, would be to find a crack through which some sort of communication can be made, one soul to another.” MenMadeSoulSeemsWould BeJobsJoySinAnswersSeaCryDivineCommunicationBirthAll ThingsLonelyFellowsFlamesSicknessCracksTidesCommunionWormsDivine LoveFellow ManRoaring Book:Redeployment Source: Redeployment