on his bed writing

laying on his bed writing

thoughts arose from the author's innards

like a lightening rod of blood shot through

it stoked the fire smoldering in his womb

sensations of parenting rose as a sweeping force

moistening his mind with its creative beat

it was like a stream of sperms bearing a million births

swimming home to share their bliss

he knew not which child would birth

but the wonder-gift was in the flow

*To Trinity

when

I am

no longer

more 

or 

less

than

you

or

you

to

me

we

one

we 

ring

we

Trinity

   

                                                  -Jerry Schroeder, Cap.

*Reflections of Alan Jones:

  -We resist admitting that there are levels of truth (some truths are not as important as others) and find it annoying that something could be true on one level and not on another.

  -We realized how dangerous the verb to be is, especially when we allow a minor - if significant - truth about someone (John is an alcoholic) to define reality.  John is an alcoholic, but that is nor all he is; to say so is a lie.

  -Theologian Charles Williams once pointed out that the word is either spiritual truth or verbal filth.  Human beings can never quite do justice to the inner truth of things.  Our speech is never completely accurate; in fact, we can say true things falsely, speak the literal truth and still be untrustworthy.

  -When we speak and mean what we say, and try to act on what we say and mean, we move closer to what we are meant to be.

  -Integrity, in the end, is a gift rather than an achievement.