Silver Faced...

Silver faced she watches over us, at times narrowed eclipse. Heaven sent guiding our paths, she leads the seasons and influences our planet. King tides loom the oceans, they roar with rage and swell as she navigates with compelling tow. Full, new and crescent moons splendid us with images of seduction. . . You launch our seasons bringing festival and celebration, we masquerade about on your behalf with dance and song like the ancients. Our fill of contemplation under moonlit skies fulfil the age of our discontent, you ladden us with mournful shadow. Oh ageless moon aware of us, quietly at your post in adorning starry blanket, depths of crater have wounded your soul and visions of faint constellations embrace. All the whilst our secrets are kept, the past you've witnessed are vile observations but shared deep within, not a word is spoken. Golden rises and pale dusted sets, your face always beholding sweet earth whilst quaint revolving's on horizons doth shimmer. Tomorrow night farewell's this stage, your face will once again grace earth, and we, kissed by your eternal glow. Farewell crescent moon the seasons end comes and your glory hides but for a moment...soon will we reacquaint! Soon we will be together ...goodnight.

Seething Droplets!

The droplets seethe as they plummet, leaving behind the fullness of their weight from the heavenly embodiments of water. Pools floating in cotton apparel fueled by gusts and gathered collectively as vapour. Exodus on the horizons of grey mirth, rolling in with thunderous atmosphere. Enlightening displays of power and static, strikes of power blaze towards earth. Mesmeric plumes of ancient tempests blow fiercely towards terra firma, wild beasts scatter, clanging doors slam shut in the quickened breezes as disorientation hits man. Cluttered exits and broken down machines line the black lengths of darkened highways, all the whilst nature takes its course. Nonchalant the wave of reckless hydrogenated cloud bursts forth over city and plain releasing its brunt to the parched landscape. Tossed umbrella, soaking sheets of water sweep across roads carrying the children home. Suddenly light breaks through as the sky reappears, last minute drops evacuate the heavens...all is hushed torrents continue down drains and gutters. Stepped into puddles resound and drenched clinging fabrics are worn on the lengthy journey home. Sunlight and rays brighter than ever reflect the droplets everywhere and catch eyes startling their gaze. Flash as the recent wash covered windows reflect blazing sun images on passing by traffic. Streets swish as wheels roll through the residue, but lastly heat restores peace to chaos as the last droplets resume their position high above earth, vacuumed up and nestle back into pools adrift, floating!

A Father's Heart...

With the given heart of guardianship and responsibility over a child, is difficult in the natural to watch quietly as they struggle with life as they are battered by life's storms along with peers and authoritive figures to which they have been entrusted by me to be loved and upheld without my full heart for my child. To equip them with the necessary skills of life then watch them take the brunt of the crashing waves of ridicule and torments, of misfortune and error and then in hope, watch them swim to safety and survive, is the hardest place for me to be. My place is at their side to protect from all that may ail them and from those things that may have an unnatural or unwarranted influence upon them, but to see them stand alone and fight against the tides of confusion, of belittlement and demoralisation from the responsive authority and then to hopefully hone skills of obedience and love with an attitude of respect is a desperate clutch on optimism.

My child seeks the protection of my wisdom and knowledge let alone the comfort of my heart to encourage and defend. But all hope and trust is given to those custodians of my child when I am unable to be there with them or to stand in their stead, making sure they neither stumble nor are transgressed. The love of a parent goes beyond self and life but rather to the death would one freely sacrifice their own, for this is the heart of one that has held and nurtured life and would dare not see it destroyed, but would willingly preserve it at all cost, to the death of self.
The Father heart goes extraordinarily beyond that of will and desire and gives ALL for the defenseless, for the weak, for the delicate. For love out weighs all and all becomes irrelevant when dealing with the purest of loves, the love of the devoted Father. His love is selfless and definitive and overlooks errancy with an outpouring of tremendous mercy and resilient grace.
For the human father his weakness is unequivocally the possession of a tender young child filled with such reflected love and devotion and the hope that the child will fulfill all their years with fortitude.

For God His strength is the knowledge that He has sacrificed ALL for His creation already! His very own son.....that we're now able to fulfil His desires in power and blessings Eternally!

Talents....

The talents that we behold present themselves when we desire the capacity to create. After all we are modeled and built on a design by the master creator who has allowed us to be genius. We have a mind that calculates, a heart that is passionate and a spirit that is connected to extraordinary and unlimited innovation.

Man has perpetually divined the boundless thoughts and imaginations of heart to birth extraordinary conceptualisations. We were created to create!We have the genes and blueprint DNA of God and it is in our humanity to be productively innovative. Look throughout history and the benevolent creations of mankind, from fire through to the space shuttle in orbit. Where does it end?  but only in death does any one single man quench the flame of innovation. The gifts bestowed from God on mankind are to equip and to build one another into a people of love, of encouragement and of unison, but talents are to be genius for the wonderment, the pleasure and advance of mankind. It's in our very nature to create, to produce and to inspire, for God himself has created all things and desires us also to inhabit and bring about glory and majesty to the earth and His name!
Our potential is not reliant on our own futile ineptness but upon the power of God's ability and full potential which inhabits every human being.
To compose a song or to instruct an orchestra, to arrange words that capture every emotion of the soul or to paint canvas with color and infuse upon it a reflected vision is not a chanced materialization but a miraculous accomplishment and wonderment of scope which belongs to God.

Forgo the inhibitions of self and explore the exhibits of your inner man, unleash the multitudes of creative wealth from the depths of your mind, your heart and soul....after all God is our author and finisher!

Iron and glass imaginations.

Iron images lay useless, expendable and about in dusty old towns full of architectural lofty webs, vagrant creatures and rust! Piled into the junked heaps of man, laden with cloths and stain ridden sheets covering the former glory of what was once prized in an earlier century by meager aristocracy. Trash heaps now are rummaged through for the former renaissances of yesterday and tomorrow restored to be placed as a plundered trophy to be admired by the new generations of notable enthusiasts of art and other collectable's.


Well travelled pieces far from their origins manhandled by dozens of marauders. Once mantled high in pristine surrounds of the prestigious, now discarded to the rear barn or workshop and even found in peculiar small boutiques, undervalued and unsung, these forgotten treasures now embellishing the impoverished obscure corners of the world.

Classic and rare restoration befits these individualised curios, but still rejected by the fascinate intrusions of the novice eye, all avail me to photograph the inept realisations of wonder....impotent are the conceptions of the craftsmen that laboured relentlessly with passion over these opulent creations. Never to be realised are the thoughts and intent of origins dedicated to each and every piece. These now a vain labour, trampled over by indiscriminate owners without imaginations or recollections of history or birth.

Open your eyes with a reflective heart and contemplate, speculate and consider for these are now forged forever in time from the imaginations of man! The Creator of earthly treasure!

Rinaldo

I Write!

Inevitably I write in the hope that I will impact a life, impress a heart, negate a thwart demise or instruct in wisdom. To perform language whilst creating imagery the beneficiary boasts of unscaled parallels.

Plights and inoculate wonders transgress the infant soul, endearments and verse of kind that familiarises the heart with quaint offerings of the past that has beset us.
Tomorrows pains and yesterday conquests regale the senses and potent the conscience. Simple and complex I write of tales, fact and babbling's of the fragile, whilst emotion carries you the reader to my plain of existence. Pretentious or obscure the thoughts and notes of worldliness leave the soul unlimited. I write to indulge to elaborate and protest that this emergence of man has been before us and will again inhabit the next. For tomorrow the sun will rise and you can touch the heavens, render me useless with your own verse. Contemplate all that has been, but be assured of this one fact, you may never see another sun set. So forge your words and cast your soul to another, share inspiration and conclude this life for death creeps quickly and swallows us all.

Rinaldo

Baby Awareness Week!

As it is "Baby Awareness Week" it's only fitting that I continue to share my life and that, which effects many.

In 1994 we were given a child by God as it was the year of the family. Sadly though this child died before we got to know him or hold him in our arms. He is with the Lord now in heaven. Heavily my wife and I were gutted, and the promise of God at the time failed us. When we arrived home I put my thoughts on paper as is my custom and this is what I wrote. I pray that this may encourage or bring solace to many that have experienced the loss of a child or loved one.
 
Our Loss, Heavens Gain

As rain falls gently against the windows,
And the corridor long and darkened,
We embrace our sunken hearts and begin
our journey home.
With footsteps echoing in the corridor,
Silence surrounds us, words fail, faces a blur
The wipers sway back and forth,
relentlessly pushing back the rain.
The drive home is silent,
Torment and heartache accompanying our emptiness
And visions of our child are etched in our minds.
Linda’s womb lay bare now, where just yesterday
Our child lived and was loved.
The night blankets us with pain, too much to bear,
But our love for one another comforts and God’s
Presence shares in our grief.
As a candles flame flickers in silence, the shadows
Of sorrow are embossed upon the walls.
Heartache and loss return in a second as we
Awake, was it a dream!?
No, the reality crushes us in a moment,
As we pull back the curtains to daylight.
Who are we to question?
OUR LOSS IS HEAVEN’S GAIN
We know our God and love Him dearly,
Our baby is now with Him.
Not a single tear will ever stream his face,
And an imperfect world will never blemish
his perfect form.
Peace, peace, peace......surrounds us!
Our faith is in God and soon......we will see our child!

By Ron Lucas
For Tyler Aaron 19 January 1994

That very year on the 2nd of December 1994, God blessed us with another son, Jacob Aaron! He kept His promise....

Busy busy busy....

Sorry for my lack of entries of late but I have been so caught up with my new camera. I will be back shortly to continue my epilogues, so until then please take a look at this site for a sneak peak at my photographs.

Rinaldo

http://imageryofthesoul.blogspot.com/

The Garden!

Profusely rustic, tangible and aged. Some manicured pockets of roomed jungle. The scent of wet gums and watered mulch whilst dripping with the lingering moisture. Moss and shade covered statues and concrete urns, intertwined creepers reaching toward sun light. The crunch of gravel underfoot and exposed weeds with tiny flower imbedded in the long paths surrounding the garden's serenity. Densely populated with climbers and creepers the dampness permeates my skin and the cool shadows are welcomed from the heat of the summer sun. A breeze sweeps through the open corridors of paths whilst birches sway gently and let in filtered light. Cool benches under canopies are positioned at random with tableau's of sculptures and iridescent plant life. Grains of timber exposed and textures of bark enable visual tones, whilst my senses take in tastes and aromas of ancient earth. Its beauty implodes on all of my senses and I snap away endless frames through the lens of my mind. Touch is waxy smooth and cool, subtle lines and veins of foliage are at my finger tips. I reach for more and brush petals against my lips, soft and delicate, sweet fragrances captivate my soul and the residue long lasting as I continue to fondle this romantic gentile flower in a delicate grasp so as not to crush its dainty shape. A butterfly in all its glory flutters past and glances at my towering intrusion to its terrain but its flight is lengthened as its interest is captured for a moment. Again it sails off and set course for a lofty branch high and relaxes on a grand leaf in the forest. To me I am man in Eden walking in the cool depths of the day seeking solitude and solace, perpetual rest, endless peace.....

Check out my new blog!

http://imageryofthesoul.blogspot.com/

Just click on the link to see my new blog......Thanks Rinaldo