timeforINRI

 Poor Clares Galway Love Gives More Than Enough  

 I have desired to go Where springs not fail, To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail, And a few lilies blow. And I have asked to be Where no storms come, Where the green swell is in the havens dumb, And out of the swing of the sea. Gerard Manley Hopkins I Speak Jesus

In the darkest streets where sorrow dwells, A boy of strength, his story tells. With teapot in hand, his dreams held tight, He sells his brew from morning light. No hint of sorrow, no, not a trace, For he carries burdens within his grace. His weary eyes, behind a smile concealed, A painful truth yet to be revealed. With every cup he pours in jest, Laughter erupts to mask the unrest. His heart, heavy and burdened so, Through humor's veil, his sadness won't show. Through all the struggles, he remains strong, To support his family, where he belongs. He carries their hopes upon his shoulder, A silent hero, as the nights grow colder. So raise your cups, sip the bitter brew, But know, behind laughter, sadness rings true. For the boy who hides his sorrow's cry, May his dreams find solace in the sky. Shruti Dash The Spirit Of Truth

 Love never gives up. Love cares for others more than self. Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. Love doesn't strut, Doesn't have a swelled head, Doesn't force itself on others, Isn't always "me first," Doesn't fly off the handle, Doesn't keep score of the sins of others, Doesn't revel when others grovel, Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, Puts up with anything, Trust God always, Always look for the best, Never looks back, But keeps going to the end.  Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over someday; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say  about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be  cancelled.  When I was an infant at my mother's breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew  up, I left those infant ways for good. We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering th...

 The sun on the face of a broken homeless man inside his darkest year of life, recognised feelings of warmth, good memories familiar melancholies', my friend the sun good for making real feelings inside a daytime's nightmare in a hundred years from now perhaps another poor mans face can feel warm, thankyou my big yellow friend ill miss you tonight when darkness arrives, look after those on the other side of the world with those caring beams, ill try waiting for you early in the morning but i hope your warmth wakes me. John SUMNER I Speak Jesus