Stephen Graves's Blog (5)

As the butterfly draws nectar from the flower and collects pollen on it’s legs, the flower gives of itself and thus honors God.



The butterfly, receiving this gift of love and gift of life, flies on to the next blossoming experience, thus propagating life and honoring God.



All life honors God. All experience honors God.



The gift of free will enables us to honor God in an unique way, a way possibly unique in all the universe.



I Am That I Am. I Am All… Continue

To a plateau it seems I have climbed, now perhaps might I rest

For the journey has been long and arduous.

Arriving here has taken my best.



Thread bare and torn are my garments

Bruised and calloused my hands.

Yet in my Heart of Hearts, I am thankful.

Is it now that the trials are at end?



Alone must now I wander

Nary another soul is in sight.

Yet there is that Presence about me

Surely all is right.



Off in the distance, a… Continue

There comes a time in every life

When it is time to set aside the strife,

Put up the hammer, put down the bow

And let spirit show us where to go.



There is a time in every life

To let love be our guide

Show no fear, face the foe, do not hide.

Hide from the journey before our eyes,

For the foe is fear, fear of surprise.



Fear that something soon will change.

And knowing naught, it seems so strange

That life may be but a moment of… Continue

The Power of Love



It is said that love can move mountains

It is said that love can endure

Pain and strife and the tortures of life

It is said that love heals all



To me I would see the power of love

In a heart felt tear, shed in joy

In the caress of a babies tender grip

In the compassion for a fellow soul

And its journey upon Blessed Mother Earth



I see in the power of love

The revolution of the Spirit

The desire to… Continue

My mind is a garden

With petal, plant and bush

With soil that is rich and clear sparkling brook.

This garden that I Am.



Spirit nourishes the roots of my Being.

Tis the Light of my Soul

That allows me to grow.



I Am the gentle fragrance of the rose

Yet I too am the sting of the nettle

That guards the edge of the path,

Meandering through this Enchanted Land.



Stooping now to pick a weed.

Or so to think it seems

For… Continue