Hearts Like Unto Thine


       TINSEL *

Nor city lights,

Nor snow-capped heights,

No diamond-dew bedazzle;

No fickle fire of femme-fatale,

Nor h'raldic grandeur castled!


Rust will gallantry festoon;

cold green moss mark antony's tomb;

crowns of golden Spain's dubloons

blind seas no more remember.


No lauds for me save psalmody--

Love's longing satiates.

Veni Creator Spiritus,

abide--my heart--enflame.


Friendships fade,



shadow faces in the heather...


"True Love's true love,"

Creation echoes--

to the unfading prize--

it points, the Way.


Glory's whispers sounded cease.

In You, alone, I found my peace.

O Infinite! (I must decrease)

Veni Creator Spiritus!


                         Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, make our hearts like unto thine!

* The title for this poem ("Tinsel") was inspired by a homily by Fr. Vincent Hawksell of the Archdiocese of Vancouver, BC.  I also dedicate this poem to the Dominican Sisters of Queen of Peace Monastery with whom I celebrated Pentecost and whose desire for solitude, contemplative union with Christ, and detachment from the world is a joyful, inspiring witness.