17 December 2014

You know what's pretty damn beautiful

Every Christmas when I fly home from the Far East 
I fly over the northern rim of the Pacific Ocean 
Carefully over the curve of the Japanese islands 
Above the Emperor Seamounts into the grasp of the Aleutian Trench
And in those few hours before I begin my descent into Seattle
I am above these pure, white ice floes

Sometimes it's still night when I fly in
And I can see sparse patches of lights
They're either Alaskan villages or lighthouses 

Sometimes the dawn has arrived early and
The beautiful white ice floes stand in contrast to the
Deep blue hue of the cold Pacific

But either way, I find peace in these ice floes
Because down there is silence and a pure innocent cold and
I know there isn't any life for miles and miles
Except for my airplane, flying over, taking me home

01 December 2014

Ferguson liturgy

"The same God who hung as Jesus on the cross is the God who lay beside Michael Brown on Canfield Drive."  
— Broderick Greer, who while I endorse much of what he is saying, happened to block me on Twitter, probably because I called him out on his un-Christian over-sensitivity