a dream on the edge of time

on a frosted morn near the barn

before the rising storms pushed in

or the orange-bright orb of sun had set

i sit wake-full watching o'er the scene

quelling whatever fears stir within

there's peace upon peace and assurance at hand

as the coffee's roast is a pleasuring treat

warmimg my hands, teasing my nose

mulling thoughts of the inhabitants in my care

why bother about the outside air

as in the house ones kin is dear

dash-back to bed and their embrace

the gift of Love in self and them

*Reflections of Jean Sulivan:

  -Art and culture have little in common.  Culture is a compost pile, a humus that one looks after, smooths out, that one puts to use on a marked out plot where everyone tramples on it.  But art is only interested in itself.  Solitary, it emerges from unexplored depths and lives on its riches.  It has no purpose except to harness its difference, which allows it to rejoin the universal.  It has no answers.  It exists in shadows.  Don't ask it to improve anyone.  It simply exists and invites us to exist.

  -In a similar way religious learning has little to do with faith.  It puts ideas into some people's mental outlook and can produce automatic reflexes.  It's especially useful when faith doesn't exist; it can take its place.  In short, it reflects absence as much as presence.  When faith emerges, religious culture becomes almost pointless, like the ground installations that make it possible to launch a rocket.  Faith burns, creates the desert, and recreates everything in its own image.

  -Every conceptual construction raised up against time tries to ignore the fragility of the body and the immediate instant.  It keeps us from drifting by providing mental anchorage but doesn't touch us at that point where flesh and spirit are joined.  "Thought is the daughter of fear," Chekhov says.  That's why it goes so well with sadness.  Instead of curing us of death through an interior experience, it represses it.

  -But if death is repressed, the resurrection becomes only an idea, a dream, or a wager that gives no life to existence.