In a context of confusion and flashy journalism, rigour becomes a precious value.
A good preacher of poetry does for listeners what a gallery guide might do for me: lead me beyond first impressions, cause me to slow down and start to feel with the artist.
Praise God for who he is and for who we are, however we may be.
Possession is less demanding than belonging, but it raises anxiety nonetheless to an aging person.
We are not neutral to the outcome of our spiritual journeys. As objective as we try to be, we want to arrive at some outcome, be it belief or disbelief.
Am I actually / really competent at anything? / How does it feel to be a grown up?
Am I building my Babel? / Brick upon brick / Constructing an edifice / Of my own achievement.
I wish I could whisper to your desires, ‘There is more. Much more.’
A voice I longed to hear but / Whose sweet tones I had almost forgotten. / Too soft, too subtle, too strong. / Unshakeable, gentle steel. / You’re welcome.