LLD's Page

Hello,

iPeace is deleted from David Califa the end of June. Here you can find a new home.

http://peaceformeandtheworld.ning.com/

You are cordially invited.

Warm regards, Eva

http://www.ipeace.me/xn/detail/2217368:Group:2370173?xg_source=activity
Come join our Group
Gaia Mother Earth,thanks
This is the first group that I opened
I hope you enjoy
I wish you much peace and love
Namaste

Easter means crossing
Today is a different day,
A day to feel the light soul
To remember that life is renewed
Much peace and love
Happy Easter Day
Bjs
Clicia

Sunday morning, to one and all: Peace within & peace to share…

MEDICINE DREAM

I have a dream:

at the center of the dream
is circling ocean
in the center of the ocean
is turtle island
at the center of the island
is vision mountain
in the center of the mountain
is healing crystal
at the center of the crystal
is sacred light
in the center of the light
i sit dreaming

I have a dream:

i dream i am a tree
my roots spread out
beside a place of water
in sunlight
my branches turn to fire
my leaves are prayers of smoke
my heart beats like a drum
inside a stone of power

I have a dream:

my dream is at the center
of great silence
here at the center
i sit dreaming

from HEALING, A Book of Poetry by David Sparenberg

GATHERING OF SHARDS

Compassion is the root and common thread. Compassion abides in the soul, as soul’s most natural offspring. It works through the heart and enters the world without doctrine or dogma. Compassion suffers for otherness, from that which one did not do. And compassion rejoices with the joy of that which is shared by all.

The differences of religions arise when compassion is broken apart, like a mirror dashed in a fit of anger. But the way of compassion is wholeness. And the cause of compassion is unity.

We need not abandon the differences, for they smell of human journeys and the gardens of many imaginations. But we must always remember compassion and the invitation to the banquet of reunion. For the “religious” purpose of compassion is to gather the shards of darkened glass and render them harmless.

Some might call this a miracle, other enlightenment. I am a humble person and I call it only Eden, the place of the Tree of Life.

David Sparenberg
22 July 2009

CANTICLE OF THE CREATURES
Interpreted from a poem by St. Francis of Assisi

Highest, most powerful
and goodly Lord
to you only go
praise and honor, benedictions
of all kinds
and every glory
to you only, Most High
do these belong
no man being worthy
to signify your name

praise my Lord
through all creation—
especially through the lord
my Brother Sun
shining with the gift of day
dispensing to us
bounteous light, beautiful
and resplendent with brightness

to you my Lord
he is most like
in likeness

praise my Lord
through our Sister
the Moon and moving Stars
set heaven high
by your high hand
beautifully arrayed, precious
and most bright

praise my Lord
through my Brother
the Wind
and every breeze
and all degrees
of alternating weather

praise my Lord
through my Sister
Flowing Water
useful she is—
a humble, chaste
and priceless treasure

praise my Lord
through my Brother
Master Fire
who sparkles for us
in the dead of night
his dancing lithe
and bright, joyous
and abounding with power

praise my Lord
through our Sister
Mother Earth
who upholds and nurtures us
bringing forth
reviving fruits, flowers
of many hues
and helpful herbs

praise my Lord
through those who show
forgiveness
through love of you
enduring the painful
perils of time
and harsh adversity

blessed are they
who persevere
in peacefulness
for by you, Most High
are they adorned

praise and bless
my Lord most truly
and render thanks
and service to him
greatly
and with great humility

from HEALING, a Book of Poetry by David Sparenberg

NATIVE SENSES

The expression
of the beautiful genius
opens like a wordless
rose
and clothes us
in the fumes
of paradise.
Somehow
when we are
listening to the wings
of crows and the
tender melodies
of elfin butterflies
we feel embraced
by the breath
of angels.
Beating
so softly, so
delicate-sweet that
velvet on a virgin’s
skin
might touch us
with an offering.
Though
we are there, out
in that other place
the familiar cup
of a summer’s rose
rises
from this ground
to kiss us
with the miracle
of its pouring passions.
And
we are downed
supine
into the common
haunting symbolum
of earth’s
dense mystery.
Though
not a single
word has swollen
to the lips
like a cherry
freshly swollen,
but the heavy
buzzing
of a working bee
lost
in the ecstasies
of pollen.
And
we are spellbound
and complete.
Like fruit.
Like garden.

David Sparenberg

L.L.D., for Your Friendship here on

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