Time rebounds in dabs of paint Watery sun soaks through space Sensations blur Colors seep Diminishing lines Reflections slur Your hands, your face Gaze untendered Unbristled, still A warm attention Encompassing all Formidable will Probing memory Dark sublime Time rebounds in dabs of paint.
When I first saw, “Servant,” the #JusJoJan prompt for today, the first thought that popped into my head was, “Christ Jesus,” and then the words of Phiippians 2:5-11*(see below). My quandary? M’s prompt word: “Twin-engine turbines.” But it proved to be a blessing in disguise as it gave me the shape of the story: a parable. Serendipity!
Our Life, His Work: A Parable
–What are you making, child? the Servant asked. Everywhere metal sheets and rotor blades lay in a tangle of wires. –See this twin-engine turbine? The boy held up a photo. My 3-D printer makes it simple. –Simple, eh? The boy looked around before answering. -Well, it’ll just take a few days, maybe weeks …. maybe months …. His voice trailed away. It looked simpler when I got started. But somewhere along the way, I lost track of what I was meant to do. He took in the tangled mess around him and finally the shiny aircraft in his photograph. His face fell. –Well, now, said the Servant, it will be a grand thing when it’s done. Maybe you could use a little help. Mine, for example. The boy looked up, his face suddenly alight with hope and renewed confidence. –Really? Will you help? Please. The Servant looked down at the expectant face, his own lit with Love. –It’s why I came, child.
Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
Philippians 2: 5-11(ESV)
Michelle's January 3, 2021 Writing Prompt: "Twin-engine turbines"
Linda's Just Jot It for January 3rd, "Servant"
When I left her yesterday the black was in her hair the gold was in her eyes and she spoke of fathers and unmourned sons but now she freezes the air like a stray from bygone forests and primordial paths looking at me like a traveler she’d warned before of hazardous roads and one in particular where red foxes appear to startle the unwary from perilous paths and slipping slopes of memory but for the shibboleth: Mother? You’re safe.
I somehow missed posting on this prompt from Sarah of dVerse who chose quotes from a book for us to use as poem titles.
"She said if a red fox had crossed somewhere, that area was safe" was the one I chose.
Click on Mr. Linky for more.
Image credit: https://www.pexels.com/photo/mother-and-daughter-on-grass-1683975/
Come, magical sprites of sea, land, and air Dreamlifters that transport us far from care Belugas, or bluebells, or a child and a mare My speech to you is dire and fair:
Dire, because of last year’s dismal fare Of health and crises that cause us to beware Threat of contagion from death’s lair;
Fair, because your songs lay bare The beauties of God’s mercies and care Shown in his Son whom we boldly dare Address as our brother, Lord and Savior, Whose love we eagerly want to share Aware that we can rejoice in this new year With all those whose burdens he helps to bear.
Common-Place or “Locus Communis” — a place to remember
Sonnet 73: That Time of Year (Shakespeare)
That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see’st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by. This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
“What are you thinking?” Avram asks me gently as we walk in the shadows of the old city. “’O, Jerusalem, Jerusalem!’”1 I quote. “Why so much suffering, Avram, the blood that has flowed across the centuries into this day?” “Our hands bear that guilt.” “And sickness, earthquakes, floods?” “Do you wonder nature suffers as part of the judgment on us?” “The curse!” I snort. Avram speaks quietly. “The Maker of the Universe has not left us without blessings, of which He is the foremost, or redemption, because of His love.” “I only see hatred.” “Then that is all you will find.”
1Luke 13:34 — “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!“
Psalm 69:32 When the humble see it they will be glad; you who seek God, let your hearts revive. Acts 17:26-27 And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us ….
“Am I loved?” she asked wonderingly, throwing back hair, sultry under silken shawl scrutinizing her groomed shimmering form. He walked glancingly past a mirror then stopped to take a more admiring look. “Darling?” Reluctantly she turned from her reflection against the dark sky; he tore himself from his dashing figure. “How asinine, dear heart,” he ejaculated. “To love oneself is most divine!” Embracing by mirror and window they stood, idols with eyes of glass.
Jude's The Saturday Symphony #14: "Romance"
Sammi'sWeekend Writing Prompt: use "Asinine" in prose or poem with exactly 74 wordsCyranny's Word of the Day Challenge: "sultry"
I’m skating it, free-wheeling it Somersaulted skyward by the infinite jest of it That I could be winging it, barrel-rolling Like Icarus to the very summit of it Unburned by it, cascading liberating fall of it Caught in it, unbound through it, Your love.