No Man Is an Island

No Man Is an Island No man is an island,Entire of itself;Every man is a piece of the continent,A part of the main.Any man’s death diminishes me,Because I am involved in mankind.And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;It tolls for thee.–John Donne (1571–1631), English poet and priest

"Love alone is credible; nothing else can be believed, and nothing else ought to be believed." –Hans Urs von Balthasar

COEXIST (I Will Bless The Lord At All Times?)U2"Am I the best or the worst or the worst of the best?" she sangIce cream smile wide as a mile back then"Say a nice prayer, be a good girl, finger on my lips"When she returned her lipstick had learned how not to kissI can't fix her, can only love herCan't keep her pocket fullI can't keep her face in smilesSomeone's stolen what was beautifulI can't sing her home to me in rhymesBut I will bless the Lord at all timesBless the Lord at all timesI will bless the Lord at all timesI will blessI will bless the Lord at all timesI will bless the LordI will bless the Lord at all timesEvery night we hope and pray for a new day to riseEvery morning when the sun shows up it's still a surpriseAny child is every child in any mother's eyesI will bless the LordI will bless the Lord at all timesI will bless the Lord at all timesI will bless the LordI will bless the Lord at all timesThat child you hear has been crying for years in the wildernessA child without armour had no hatred to harbour, only lovelinessThe driver of the ambulance unpacks his shirt pressed and neatTo honour the hurt and the hungry he will later greetThere's not so much road left here and no road signsDrones hover without any consciousness over war crimesI will bless the Lord at all times?The tide is rising, all ships are sinkingNew poets must despise all old ways of thinkingWhoever made language must've been drinkingTwenty-six characters own all the ink and printingI got so many words in my head but I can't find the linesI will bless the Lord at all timesChanges, these changesWill rain on this paradeChanges, these changesI am not afraidNo one there to write it downBut when the prophet came aroundSaid "I've a stranger with meIn the fight none can compareBut food and shelter we shareBeloved community"Every night we hope and pray for a new day to riseEvery morning when the sun shows up, it's still a surpriseAny child is every child in any mother's eyesI will bless the LordI will bless the Lord at all timesI will bless the Lord at all timesI will bless the LordI will bless the Lord at all timesChanges, these changesWill rain on this paradeChanges, these changesI am not afraidThe pages that enrage usShe tears them from the book"Save us, save us" sings the girl of Guadalupe

Kansas CityThe New Basement TapesI listen to you time and time againWhile you tell me just what's rightAnd you tell me a thousand things a dayThen sleep somewhere's else in the nightI'm going back to Kansas CityAnd I love you dear, but just how longCan I keep singing the same old songAnd I love you dear, but just how longCan I keep singing the same old songI'm going back to Kansas CityAnd you called me to come, then I doThen you say you've made some mistakeYou invite me into your houseThen you say gotta to pay for what you breakGoing back to Kansas CityAnd I love you dear, but just how longCan I keep singing the same old songAnd I love you dear, but just how longCan I keep singing the same old songI'm going back to Kansas CityGypsy woman, you know every place I goEven a thousand miles away from homeAnd you don't care if I'm asleep or I'm awakeThis fickle heart just turned to stoneGoing back to Kansas CityAnd I love you dear, but just how longCan I keep singing the same old songAnd I love you dear, but just how longCan I keep singing the same old songI'm going back to Kansas CityAnd I love you dear, but just how longCan I keep singing the same old songAnd I love you dear, but just how longCan I keep singing the same old songI'm going back to Kansas City

Into The MysticVan MorrisonWe were born before the windAlso, younger than the sun'Ere the bonnie boat was wonAs we sailed into the mysticHark now, hear the sailors crySmell the sea and feel the skyLet your soul and spirit flyInto the mysticYeah, when that fog horn blowsI will be coming homeYeah, when that fog horn blowsI wanna hear itI don't have to fear itAnd I wanna rock your gypsy soulJust like way back in the days of oldThen magnificently we will floatInto the mysticWhen that fog horn blowsYou know I will be coming homeYeah, when that fog horn whistle blowsI gotta hear itI don't have to fear itAnd I wanna rock your gypsy soulJust like way back in the days of oldAnd together we will floatInto the mystic

ThrasherNeil YoungThey were hiding behind hay balesThey were planting in the full moonThey had given all they had for something newBut the light of day was on themThey could see the thrashers comingAnd the water shone like diamonds in the dewAnd I was just getting up, hit the road before it's lightTrying to catch an hour on the sunWhen I saw those thrashers rolling byLooking more than two lanes wideI was feelin' like my day had just begunWhere the eagle glides, descendingThere's an ancient river bendingThrough the timeless gorge of changesWhere sleeplessness awaitsI searched out my companionsWho were lost in crystal canyonsWhen the aimless blade of scienceSlashed the pearly gatesIt was then that I knew I'd had enoughBurned my credit card for fuelHeaded out to where the pavement turns to sandWith a one way ticket to the land of truthAnd my suitcase in my handHow I lost my friends, I still don't understandThey had the best selectionThey were poisoned with protectionThere was nothing that they neededNothing left to findThey were lost in rock formationsOr became park bench mutationsOn the sidewalks and in the stationsThey were waiting, waitingSo I got bored and left them thereThey were just dead weight to meBetter down the road without that loadBrings back the time when I was eight or nineI was watchin' my mama's TVIt was that great Grand Canyon rescue episodeWhere the vulture glides, descendingOn an asphalt highway bendingThrough libraries and museums, galaxies and starsDown the windy halls of friendshipTo the rose clipped by the bullwhipThe motel of lost companionsWaits with heated pool and barBut me I'm not stopping thereGot my own row left to hoeJust another line in the field of timeWhen the thrasher comes, I'll be stuck in the sunLike the dinosaurs in shrinesBut I'll know the time has comeTo give what's mine

I'm A SongStephen Wilson Jr.I'm the showman in San AntonioMiddle of the rodeoDaddy's hand that you used to holdWhen you'd walk back to the carI'm the sound of the county fairFerris wheel kisses high up in the airA sip of brandy when your soul is bareAnd you need to share your heartI'm the words that'll hit youThat'll get you where you're goingSo you never go there aloneI'm the melody glued to the memoryThat you can't shake when it comes onI'm the part of you that you listen toRiding in the radio all night longI'm a songI'm a songI was there the day you learned to driveThe first time that you got highI even helped you realize that she wasn't right for youYou fall down, I pick you up againI helped a boy become a manWhen your best friend diedI helped you cry and finally turn him looseI'm the words that'll hit youThat'll get you where you're goingSo you never go there aloneI'm the melody glued to the memoryThat you can't shake when it comes onI'm the part of you that you listen toRiding in the radio all night longI'm a songI'm a songI'm a songI'm the part of you that you listen toRiding in the radio all night longI'm the words that'll hit youThat'll get you where you're goingSo you never go there aloneI'm the melody glued to the memoryThat you can't shake when it comes onI'm the part of you that you listen toRiding in the radio all night longI'm a song...

As we travel the paths of unseen existences in our long pilgrimage through life, we do so in the company of angels.

"Every one of us is shadowed by an illusory person: a false self. This is the man that I want myself to be but who cannot exist, because God does not know anything about him. And to be unknown of God is altogether too much privacy. My false self is the one who wants to exist outside the reach of God’s will and God’s love—outside of reality and outside of life. And such a self cannot help but be an illusion."–Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation