everything will fade but the Truth

Beauty is a fading flower,
Truth is but a wizard’s tower,
Where a solemn death-bell tolls,
And a forest round it rolls.

Alfred Noyes


(the spent flowers of a fading season / Julie Cook / 2017)

Truth is not a thought, not a word, not a relationship between things, not a law.
Truth is a Person.
It is a Being which exceeds all beings and gives life to all.
If you seek truth with love and for the sake of love,
she will reveal the light of His face to you inasmuch as you are able
to bear it without being burned.

St. Nicholas of Serbia

“Lead me in your truth and teach me,
for you are the God of my salvation;
for you I wait all the day long.”

Psalm 25:5

fading Light

“For age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress,
and as the evening twilight fades away, the sky is filled with stars,
invisible by day.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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(the evening light through a hibiscus / Julie Cook / 2016)

“…and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes;
and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain;
the first things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:4

In between

“Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.”

William Wordsworth

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(the dried remains of a crepe myrtle / Julie Cook / 2015)

Somewhere in between birth and death resides the beautiful. . .
Small and fragile, ever so demure, it begins. . .
Slowly at first, yet laced with excited energy. . .fullness eventually falls into place . . .
Bold
Strong
Even daring. . .
Yet never to be confused with
Pushy
Obnoxious
Or self-centered
Determination sets the cycle into motion
There is no turning back, no stopping what has started

And just as quickly as it began. . .
It all begins to fade, to go away, to change, to depart. . .
Slowly and ever so slightly
A tinge of brown,
A wilted droop,
A loss of vibrancy
Life juices dry as everything begins
Shrinking
Withering
Dying. . .

All that remains is the dried shell
A stiff skeleton of what was
No fragrance
No softness
No tender touch
Just sticky
Brittle
Brown

And so here we now sit. . .
Somewhere in between. . .
Waiting for the beautiful. . .

Fading light

All that’s bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that’s sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.
Thomas Moore

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(a piper in the shadowed light

Shadows grow long as days grow short.
A gentle hush settles in over the horizon.

Savory, heady scents and tastes fill our senses,
While we wrap ourselves in blankets filled with rich warm hues.

Yellow flickering lights fill the magical darkness,
As crunching crackling sounds serenade nighttime wanderers.

Time gently slows as clocks turn back,
While older hearts bask in youthful wonder.

Baking relentless Heat, now mercifully blown elsewhere,
Ushers in gently refreshing rains to a thirsty weary land.

A page turns as days now change.
Seasons shift as bright mellows to soft.
Fresh replaces heavy, as what once was now gently fades
Into the pale shimmering light.