A Silent Voice

A true artist is not one who is inspired but one who inspires others.

-Salvador Dali

As I ramble deeper into this wilderness of solitude, the path clears itself like I have never before seen.  The goodness in all things—they come to appear as one.  All that was once so complicated gives way to the simplicity of an inner revelation.

I now see that it isn’t as hard as one would believe to find happiness in solitude.  It is in due time that the fruits of gratitude are gently harvested by the labors of loneliness.  However solitude isn’t for the faint of heart.  It is a heavy-duty heart that is vital to the sound of deafening silence.

In seclusion we must carry the knowledge of compassion for all humanity.  We must hold a reverent demeanor for the goodness in all Creation. And still be humbled by the goodness in our own soul.  How can we endure through extended silence if we do not see the goodness of God within all that we see?  And most important is what it is we see when we look within ourselves.  It is through our own folly that our darkness divides us against the light that God has placed delicate upon our soul to reflect His goodness and become witness to His mercy.

We do not have to run away from ourselves.  It is adequate enough to turn from the inner darkness and walk towards His light.  For this is how He has it planned for us.  It is the only way that we are truly going to find ourselves.  It is not how we have built ourselves through our own ignorance, but how He has made us in his wisdom and reshaped us in His boundless compassion.  For it is His Will that our body and soul shall be a Temple of His Spirit—that our lives should reflect the radiance of His love and our whole being will then repose silent in peace.  Then and only then, will silence speak to us through the grace of the Holy Spirit.

It is not speaking that disrupts silence, but the anxiety to be heard.  The words spoken by the brazen man impose silence on all others, so that his voice may be the only one heard.  The humbled man speaks, so that he may be spoken to.  The humbled man asks of nothing except for the charity of God—then he waits—listening.

Silence is tidied in the summing up of words that we all have lived for.  When we accept Christ—it is by the grace we hear through words of faith. Salvation is often reckoned in a silent prayer full of hope.  Though it is sooner or later, that shall come the time when we must confess God openly before men, and then before the Kingdom of Heaven and all fallen creatures upon this Earth.

If our life’s purpose is poured out in useless words, we will never hear anything.  We will never become anything.  And in the end because we have said everything before we had anything to say—we shall be left speechless at the moment of our greatest decision.

It is through disciplined silence that the final expression is accepted.  Silence is not an end in itself.  The life of silence fans away the smokescreen of words that man has laid down between his mind and things.  In silence we see face to face with the naked being of things.  And yet in the nakedness of reality—that which we fear—stands nothing to be ashamed.   For the solace found in silence is as peaceful as a Springtime morning.  The unity of silence is clad in the pleasant company of an unconditional Love for yourself.  It is in silence that God teaches us to know reality by respecting it where words often leave circumstance lost in translation.

Silence is demanded when awakening from a spiritual slumber.  The whole of our life is a prayer upon the deliverance of our last decision—the only decision that will ever matter.  We also pray with contemplation through silence.  Yet there is a creative thread that allows us to speak to others—tying us all together through collective prayer.

In speaking with graceful ease to others with compassion, we can help them see their way to their own decision.  It would be better yet, that we help them down their own path that leads to the Father and the Son.  In teaching them hope, our very words teach them a new silence—the silence of Resurrection. And in that silence their faith is formed and prepared so that they may speak of what they too have heard.  And the Word of God will then filter clean with divinity through the being of all lost souls.

I have believed, and so I spoke.

2 Corinthians 4 : 13

—BeLove


A Letter For Heaven

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

1 Peter 5 : 8

Dear God—

I know not where I’m going. But it is my hope that wherever it is, You are there.  I have no idea what path You have laid for me, but I am confident that You have made it the way it should be built for me.

Of one thing I am sure is that pain will fall like rain, but upon my soul it will never stain.  And yes, I still do not fully know who I am, but I do feel You in the depths of me, and for that I am hopeful for what it is—I think might be left of the goodness in me.

For I have already found the treasure I sought when it was You I found deeper than just a thought.  And just because I talk about following your Will, doesn’t mean I always will.  So please allow us to speak more privately of that beneath your eternal Windmill.

But know this, it is your Glory—I will never allow anyone to steal.  And the fact that I feel you in my heart brings joy to all my days, and when those days are done, I’d be might to find a bit of a head start upon those Pearly Gates, because of your ways—I would rather not part.

So it is my desire to walk with You and You must know there is not a thing I will not do to prove the Essence of You, except maybe use a double negative or two while writing this letter to You.

But from this moment on, it is through this valley filled with the shadow of death and You—I will walk until my final breath.  So please allow me one last jest before I take my daily rest.


 

To say that I am built in your image

Is the reason why Love is my existence

For You—God—are Love.

Like you, Love is my identity,

Selfless of the righteous self.

For it is Love you wrote within my name

So it’s about damn time we fan it’s flame.

 —Ryan Love

 

P.S. I Love You


Golden Shore

And they told him, “We came to the land to which you sent us. It flows with milk and honey, and this is its fruit.

Numbers 13 : 27

We are all but specks of dust

fallen from what lay above

left astray to find that one

to play this game they call Love.

 

Created high upon an astral plane

we dive dual—a broken flame.

Our souls but puppets

strung with glorious Grace

upon His golden shore.

This life but a stage

separated by nothing more

than the thoughts that rattle around a cage.

 

But it is what drips within our mind

—a hint of gold

paints itself upon our soul.

A nectar so sweet

for what once was dead

finds a new thread.

 

In the darkest of places

we must give the most light

fed with faith and starved of fear.

Then comes a voice

all shall hear

shivered loud—ringing clear.

 

Love it falls like a drip

eternal from a golden mind

trickling through your heart

comes a faith so kind.

For fed is the soul

flowing with milk and honey

from an oil so sacred

it keeps the lamp of Heaven

forever trimmed

and always burning.

BeLove © 2018