The Skylight is Falling, The Skylight is Falling.

There’s a hole in our roof. More like an aperture. In the middle of our kitchen is a skylight…an upside down crater in the ceiling. The window has fallen into disrepair, and every time I look up I see not only natural light, but mold, bubbled paint, and another opportunity to procrastinate.

So, last night, after a long and arduous day helping the heavy-set, white haired, red dressed icon from the north, I went “up on the roof” (Do you hear the song in your head? Youtube the Drifters.)

There is a big difference between channeled light and being out in the light. I was no longer simply looking through the skylight, but under the great big sky. The sun had run off to illumine another side of the earth, and I stood above the skylight and cricked my neck. I heard the melancholy moan of a train, and a drone of a plane. Clouds sporadically tip-toed by. Stars twinked at me in the gaps.

I sat for a moment.

“When this old world starts a getting you down…” (Cue the Drifters)

Well, yes and no. If the newsfeed spoon-feeds my anxious thoughts, rather than summons compassion and prayers, I get more “down.”  Just what are we to do with all this inflowmation? Then I thought of the skylight.

God is in charge of the satellite-skies as Mark Heard describes them. The square of sunshine graced to us is our piece of presence. Our little light, you know, the one that we’re gonna shine, is like the holey roof, the aperture which God’s great light can focus on a dark portion of this world.

Is there a possibility we all might be skylights? Sure, many, like mine, are in need of some repair, but hey, light still shines through. It shines in place, my place in the world.

“I am the light of the world.” Jesus

Prayer: Lord Jesus, help me today to be a little light in the dark places. Shine through me. Amen

By the way, the skylight is not falling, it is filling. Filling you to spill light on your place in the world.

World

Not only circumference

but an orb

of circumstantial evidence.

 

What keeps us from flinging

into thin air, breathless

to the pin drop darkness?

Every spinning and expanding

island riding on predestination.

 

What keeps us from bringing

a thin air of presumption?

What great expanse of reason

finds its edge, its end?

Thought rides tides to the Temple.

 

And Jesus writes in the dirt with his finger.

 

John 8:1-12John 1:5

 

Salt and Light: Savor the Flavor.

Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh

Who threw the salt into center night?

Deep space thoughts sprinkled

and preserved.

The flavor of infinity dashed

between light years

and a dark night.

The staring, my taste buds,

the stars, raise my blood pressure.

 

 

“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,

what is man that you are mindful of him,

and the son of man that you care for him?”

Psalm 8:3,4

Transposition: The Heat Of Light Has Its Effects.

 

The cloudscape

scraped the sides,

and wayward beams

invaded the lows.

A push down

and in.

Strands of yellow

light weaved

where fog

and mist

were wrested.

The quilted air

pried from

the sculpted knolls

was lifted by

a yellow oscillation.

Together, they were

a secret.

Separate, they are

a mystery.

 

Genesis 1:3

 

 

Photo courtesy of Jessica Szopinski. Guatemala

Spoken Light. The Sound of Vision.

Photo by Roberto Gonzalez
Khor Virap Church, Arashat, Armenia

 

From whence came this beam of light?

Did the particles roll off the Tongue?

Can sound give birth to brilliance?

 

Genesis 1:3

John 8:12

John 1:1

 

Hall Light

 

She dozed off in a Stryker bed.

Her head tilted and cricked.

She mumbled and snored a bit.

It was an afternoon nap

and we just were.

 

Might I stay until bedtime

to tuck her in and say a prayer?

I’ll leave the light on and the door cracked.

I could be just down the hall

beneath that same light.

 

“Oh Father,

Come to her in her dreams like the daddy

she once adored.

 

Oh Jesus, take her hand,

like the big brother she once looked up to.

 

Oh Comforter,

Lay the baby Jesus in her dreams to hold

as she did each of us in a room such as this.

 

Oh come and be the light in the hall.

Come and be the opened door.”

 

“I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.”  Psalm 4:8  King James Version

 

As you have wished to us many times over;  Sweet dreams, mom, sweet dreams.

 

 

© Gerald Allen Barrett and parentheticallyspeakingin3d, 2012.