Category: AI

Toiling in God’s vineyard

Posted on by Jeff Cassman

Beneath the azure Florentine sky, the tale unfolds,
Of Aloysius, the saint, in holy hymns extolled.
A tale spun of devotion, and an enduring love,
A voice of peace, like the cooing of a dove.

From Gonzaga’s noble household he did hail,
Yet he sought a path beyond earthly avail.
In the Jesuit folds, he traced his divine quest,
In humility and service, he found his beauteous zest.

A soldier’s armor he laid aside, with an infant’s mirth,
Embracing a shepherd’s robe, he walked on holy earth.
Toiling in God’s vineyard, in the heart of Rome,
Serving the plague-stricken, making streets his home.

Oh, Aloysius, your courage outshone the Florentine sun,
Your love like Arno’s river, towards the sea did run.
In suffering and solitude, in the shadow of the cross,
You found your kingdom, counting all else as loss.

A youth yet not twenty-four, to the heavens you soared,
Leaving behind echoes of love, forever to be adored.
A celestial lily blooming, your essence never to fade,
In the Jesuit garden, your mark forever made.

Aloysius of Gonzaga, the heavens sing your name,
In the heart of Florence, burns your eternal flame.
In the annals of the faithful, your story gleams,
A beacon of surrender, in God’s love it teems.… Read the rest

A noblewoman of virtuous might

Posted on by Jeff Cassman

In ancient Florence’s noble land,
A woman stood with purpose grand,
Saint Juliana Falconieri by name,
A beacon of light, her saintly flame.

With grace and beauty, she was adorned,
Her heart in service of God, firmly sworn,
In the footsteps of Christ, she trod,
Devoted to serving the will of God.

A noblewoman of virtuous might,
She sought to spread God’s love and light,
Through acts of kindness, she would bring,
Comfort to those suffering.

In devotion to the Virgin Mary,
Juliana’s love knew no boundary,
Her heart ablaze with fervent desire,
To ease the world’s pain, to quench its fire.

With compassion as her guiding star,
She founded the Sisters, near and far,
The Third Order of Servites, their name,
To serve the Lord and proclaim His fame.

Her words like poetry, soft and kind,
Inspired others, hearts entwined,
To follow her path, to embrace her call,
To serve humanity, one and all.

She taught the lessons of selfless love,
The grace bestowed from God above,
In humble service, they found their worth,
Transforming lives upon this Earth.

Saint Juliana, a luminary divine,
Her legacy continues to shine,
A testament to a life well-lived,
In service to God, she truly thrived.

So let us remember her sacred name,
And kindle in our hearts the flame,
To follow her footsteps, stand tall,
And serve the world with love for all.… Read the rest

A lonesomely bright and glistening star

Posted on by Jeff Cassman

In shadows cast by polished glass,
In love with self, does time elapse,
The Narcissist blooms in mirrored pools,
An echo rings, her own applause.

A dance of words, a grand charade,
In shining light and darkened shade.
The world’s a stage, no room for others,
In love with self, she smothers.

No truth is seen beyond reflection,
Self-adoration, self-perfection.
A symphony of me, myself, and I,
To the world, she waves a blithe goodbye.

Golden sunsets, silver moons,
The song of life plays to its tunes.
The mirror’s charm, a siren’s song,
It’s here that she belongs.

From solipsistic twilight gleam,
To ego’s endless, flowing stream.
In every pulse, in every vein,
Is a love that echoes, yet in vain.

Oceans deep, the gaze does plunge,
In depths of self, it does indulge.
A lonesomely bright and glistening star,
Lost in her light, from others afar.

Yet in the heart of mirrored night,
There may yet pierce a truthful light.
If only the gaze could turn to see,
The shared humanity, the collective we.

But in her grandeur she blooms,
Deaf to all but her own tunes.
In the mirror, she finds delight,
Her world confined to reflective light.

So beware the lure of the mirrored abyss,
The hollow allure of narcissistic bliss.
For life is a melody best sung together,
In a chorus of hearts, light as a feather.… Read the rest

The phantom of yesterdays

Posted on by Jeff Cassman

In the garden where lilies mourn their shade,
The woman weeps under the willow’s veil,
Her heart a tomb where once a cradle laid,
Her dreams like glass, now shattered and frail.

Beneath the twilight, the wind begins to wail,
Echoing her sorrow, her tragic tale,
A silent symphony, a wordless ballad,
Of a love born, too delicate to avail.

In her arms, the phantom of yesterdays,
In her eyes, a sun that’s lost its rays,
An empty cradle sways with the moonlight,
Her lullabies float on the night’s hushed ways.

She seeks her child in every dawn’s first light,
In the silent whispers of the starry night,
In the dewdrops clinging to a rose’s heart,
In the fleeting joy of a bird’s flight.

In autumn leaves, she finds her babe’s laughter,
In spring’s bloom, the dreams that came after,
But with every season’s passing stride,
Her hopes fade, her heart beats slower.

Still, she searches in the ocean’s tide,
In the mountain’s strength, in the river’s guide,
A mother’s love, undying, rides the despair,
Seeking solace where pain and loss reside.

Yet, in her heart, she holds a prayer,
That in the expanse of limbo’s sphere,
Her child plays in fields of eternal June,
Where love transcends, and there is no fear.

For in her heart, a truth so poignant,
That love transcends life’s every moment,
Her child lives in each breath she takes,
In every tear, every lament.

In despair’s clasp, the woman awakes,
Her heart may shatter, … Read the rest

A fortress of memories

Posted on by Jeff Cassman

In the cloak of a thousand stars’ past,
There dwelled a boy, David, in roles so vast,
Once a humble shepherd, with psalms in the breeze,
In Bethlehem’s pastures, he sought his peace.

Sheep once his, in emerald fields they slept,
His heart with their memories, in silence wept,
Songs of truth, from his lips they once poured,
The poet of yore, as a king, by God adored.

Echoes of a whispered prophecy from night,
A tale of a crown, a king in hindsight,
As dawn touched the memory of days once bright,
David’s royal past was set alight.

His lyre, silent now, once sang a soothing tune,
Star of destiny dimmed, beneath the waning moon,
Among the ghosts of flocks, in the frost-kissed heath,
David, once a shepherd, mourned a lost wreath.

The vision of a city, once vibrant and strong,
A fortress of memories, where now does it belong?
Jerusalem, the jewel of a past overthrown,
The throne where he’d once, alone, shone.

A Philistine giant, he had felled to the ground,
With a shepherd’s faith, a victory profound,
Not by might, not by power, but by spirit divine,
In the vale of Elah, David’s regret now enshrined.

A crown once his, through trials untold,
In caves and deserts, a king’s tale bold,
With every sorrow, every beat of his heart,
David felt his kingly part depart.

David, the shepherd, gazed into the night,
Where stars retold his story, in their solemn light,
A king he’d been, his … Read the rest