"Our way of thinking is attuned to the Eucharist; and the Eucharist, in turn, confirms our way of thinking". -- St. Irenaeus

Who can know the mind of God
Or plumb the depths of his wisdom?
What song can rise to Heaven's height
Or word can aptly describe Him?
Such mysteries plague the mind of man
No simple solution for this searching soul
It slips away like water through the hand
And loathe are we to relinquish control
We look upon the Eucharist with grateful thanksgiving
And offer graciously our petition and praise
For the purest act of love: life-giving
This source of food and drink in the form of bread and wine
Transcends and crosses through both mortal and divine
In this life-giving and purely creative force
I find my own creative imagination's source

Pelo marrón como la tierra, ojos verdes como el pasto, labios rosas como las flores del jardín. Un corazón del tamaño del universo; para hablarte de esto, no me basta un solo verso. Me gustas, solo pienso en eso. A veces intento convencerme de que no será posible por tu irrealidad. Pero te amo, esa es mi verdad.

There’s a girl I know on Mars
Who wears tube socks
With everything she wears,
No matter if they’re stretched out or not.
There, the wind barely blows,
It barely even whistles.
But she doesn’t like her feet
To get cold.

Every time we talk,
We talk about everything
And nothing.
She sits at home and watches
The stars from her window,
Swinging one of her legs
From the arm of the couch.

I told her that I’d mail her a new
Pair of socks if I could find
A pair with Mars on them,
And a pair that had the moon
Printed on them.
Especially that far out, I bet they’re
Hard to find.

Maybe I’d settle for a pair myself,
To see what she sees in these things,
After all, she always wears them.
Maybe I’ll get her a pair that stretches
To her knees,
A solid color to match her couch,
To hide the red dirt that creeps
In her house.

After all, we’re human.
We need something that connects us
To who we are, who we used to be.
Anything to make us feel
More important than what we are

Propagate some imagination seeds,
grow them on the sunny windowsill in your head,
water them with words,
and watch the stories bloom

prior to a bare dream land,
    with consciousness scarce in hand,
the moment right before sleep,
    appear depictions mind wont keep.

vivid images now unfurled,
    an immense, graphic, real new world,
visions of intricate detail,
    astound endlessly without fail

though this night I value most,
    looking back - it seems a ghost,
is this how the others see?
    given this gift - who could I be?

maybe I had this skill before?
    with this mind, could I be sure?
now to know what I am missing,
    is it a curse or is this a blessing?

" Once upon a pleasant day
  as I continue to describe and say
     I saw a conversation sublime
    so surreal and eternally divine.

      Roaming around the ocean
  of existence and great emotion.
   At the shore,Love and Hate sat together
  as intricacies began to decipher.

Love began her narrations
   citing several of its notions.
   As she narrated her side
  shores of life got washed by tide

   Drenched in the lively waters
  Hate now began narrating her matters
   Carefully she had listened to Love
  as I watched it from Heavens above.

Love spoke of beauty of life
  charming lush fields swaying to fife
  and the exquisite tone that it play
   by the Springs of the month of May.

Hate meanwhile spoke the same
      with tinges of love that she tame.
  The Autumns and Winters whose hues
   whom she owes those gruesome dues.

I witnessed how their judgements
   didn't go through any predicaments.
   Ay! I appear to be thoughtless broke
  as love-hate appeared as same cloak.

I witnessed how their judgements
   didn't go through any predicaments.
   Ay! I appear to be thoughtless broke
  as love-hate appeared as same cloak.

They talked long till eternity
      as infinity appeared a small entity.
    Thinking of uniting, enduring all pain,
      yet knowing it won't happen again.

      And then they both disintegrated
       into fine sands and amalgamated
     into the Ocean of life and existence
     and became parts of life sithence. "

Are there aliens

inside the clouds? Who is there --


rummaging about?

My imagination runs rampant. Images I cannot control. I fear myself. I can't close my eyes or they'll creep inside. These far off lands own me, I'm only a vessel to tell their twisted stories.