Enjoy these beautiful photos taken by my friend Bruce Anger.

If you have any spiritual poetry, prose, or inspiring photography you’d like to share with The Prosary, feel free to e-mail theprosary@gmail.com. I’d love to hear from you!

Now matter what is.

We can die in this moment,

It’s not our decision anyways … it’s His.

Look up all around you,

Even look at the ground.

Let your ear listen to Nature …

Do you ever wonder, “What’s that sound?”

Its all around you, never-ending.

Never does it cease.

Even if you wish it to stop,

The wonders can’t release.

It’s yesterday, tomorrow, last year and next June,

Right here and now is everything,

So why do people feel gloom?

It doesn’t get much better than this,

I truly believe it so.

You may ask why I feel like this

And the answer is, “I don’t know.”

Because it really does feel good sometimes,

Knowing He is there to provide.

I feel especially blessed to know

That it is ‘here and now’ where the Almighty resides.

–by Navjot Dhillon

Knowing that I am blessed?

Especially looking back at days

When my life was really messed.

My blessings come from realisation,

Of knowing what true happiness really is.

And that’s from finding the Source

That provides you with Eternal Bliss.

He is out there for those people,

Waiting to be found.

And once you have found Him,

You will begin to hear less sounds.

These sounds that I speak of,

Are ones of the material world.

So don’t let these noises get too loud,

And avoid yourself from being hurled.

The basic fundamentals

Of how all of us can live right,

Starts off with little things, such as:

Try not to start confrontations or fights.

Once you make an effort,

To allow the little things in your life shine.

It brings us one step closer in realizing:

That EVERY single life out there is Divine.

–by Navjot Dhillon

We know He’s around,

Even though His omni-presence barely makes a sound.

Let’s open our hearts,

And let us open our minds,

And let us do our best to embrace Him inside.

He’s already there,

Maybe you didn’t know.

But if you embrace Him inside,

He can make you glow.

Glow forever eternally,

Inside and out.

Find out who you really are,

And what you’re about.

Once it’s there,

Things become brighter.

You begin to look at the “serious” things in life,

And you start to take them lighter.

So let’s all look to our left and to our right,

Because He’s in each and every one of us,

Every day and every night.

–by Navjot Dhillon

Man of sorrows, aching for all mankind

Divine one, yet so humbly walking with us

Teaching and preaching, delivering, healing

Commanding the wind, driving dark demons out

Raising those once dead to walk the earth again

How could they not believe, seeing what he did

How could they abuse and kill this Man of God

But we share their guilt, for our sins nailed him up

Man of sorrows, you took all our punishment

Now by your awesome grace, we are forgiven

Blessed with joy today and everlasting life

A Man of sorrows, but only for a day

On that Easter morn, they found an empty tomb

You rose on clouds of light, angels your escort

Welcomed by the Father, saying, Well done, Son

No more a Man of sorrows, a risen King

No more a Man of sorrows, the Lord of Lords

Hallelujah glory, Hosanna glory

He’s the risen King, He is the Lord of Lords

Hallelujah glory, Hosanna glory

He’s the risen King, He is the Lord of Lords

No more a Man of sorrows, a risen King.

A risen King! A risen King! Hosanna!

–by Chris Kempling

I am your friend when all others have left you

I’ll comfort you when your heart fills with sorrow

I’ll lift you up when your burdens oppress you

I am your Saviour, I am your Saviour.

Heaven is calling, come home to the Father

I have a place that is waiting for you there

No power on earth will be able to part us

You are my children, you are my children.

Bridge

Satan has asked me to test you

He thinks he’ll turn you away from me

I know my own, they’ll be faithful

They know the sound of my voice

I’ll save you from your temptations

My hand will guide you to life

Through my Son you will all have life.

I am your friend when all others have left you

I’ll comfort you when your heart fills with sorrow

I’ll lift you up when your burdens oppress you

I am your Father, you are my children

I am your Father, you are my own.

–By Chris Kempling

His life drained out in misery

He cried out, “God, don’t leave me here!

I can’t take more, my death is near!”

 Chorus

He was broken by sin

He was broken by pain

He surrendered his life

He gave all that was left

He was broken and scarred

He was broken and marred

He was broken, but he was still beautiful

They found an empty tomb that day

Their minds confused, their hearts dismayed

But there he stood, with nail-scarred hands

Alive! Alive! A risen Man!

 Chorus

 A troubled soul, immersed in strife

He’d done it all, destroyed his life

Before he chose to end it all

He cried to God, “Please hear my call!”

 Chorus

 I love you son, you’re dear to me

I want you for all eternity

I’ll heal your scars, and make you whole

I’ll hold you close, embrace your soul

 Chorus 2

You were broken by sin

You were broken by pain

You surrendered your life

You gave all that was left

You were broken and scarred

You were broken and marred

You were broken, but you were still beautiful

 Chorus 3

You are broken by sin

You are broken by pain

Please surrender your life

Give Him all you have left

You are broken and scarred

You are broken and marred

You are broken

But you are still beautiful!

–by Chris Kempling

 a little wobbly though, my feet unsteady

will you catch me if i fall

answering your Long Distance call?

it’s not in the wait i learn to trust

but in the flight and in the fuss

a gentle Wind pushes and i am launched

breathless, but free 

– by Rikki Ratliff

I wanna breathe

God open a door

I wanna see

Just a little crack

So I can be me

Let me feel again

So I can be free

I know the rhymes are cliché

And oh-so-Hallmark

But sometimes life is that way

And don’t label me dark

Or selfish in my prose

People get tired, I’m just tired

Of all things closed

Especially doors.

–by Rikki Ratliff

My heart was beating an ecstatic rhythm; I could barely contain my excitement.  

I was going to meet him.  My beloved.  

Stepping through the opening of a large stone gate half-covered in ivy, I could see the trees part to reveal a grassy clearing.  My eyes yearned to see him, to finally be in the presence of the one I’ve heard so much about.  I felt like I knew him already, hearing glowing tales of his goodness, strength, and passion in storybooks and history books alike.  I had often repeated his name in my heart like a mantra, whispered his name in secret, dripping like a sweet wine from my lips.  

I was going to appear before him, uncover the mystery I had for years been yearning to discover for myself.

Though I did yet not see him in the clearing, I could feel him in the soft swell of wind, I could hear his song in the faint melody of an orchestra playing somewhere unseen.  The chords of music were ones I had heard in my sweetest dreams, the low rich tones of cellos and the birdlike ethereal quality of a dozen singing violins.  I scarcely knew how to proceed, seeing in the clearing before me a banquet table draped with plush purple fabrics — my favourite colour — and tastefully decorated with gleaming glasses filled with freshly-cut white daisies — my favourite flower.  Two places were set with crystal bowls containing miniature cupcakes and chilled green tea ice cream and tall wineglasses brimming with sparkling white wine.  Above my head, a banner of twinkling fairy lights adorned the trees and my heart fluttered as bold monarch butterflies danced in the thicket.  

My excitement grew and grew.  He knew me.  He knew my simple tastes down to the tiniest detail.  I was anxious to see him, to see the face of the one that was already romancing my soul, hidden from view.

My eyes were drawn to the table where I saw my name written on a card.  Eagerly, I opened it and read the following instructions:

My love, I will appear soon.  Open the door and prepare yourself.

Before I could puzzle over the meaning of the simple message, I saw a door painted blue standing solitary among the trees.  Curious, I opened it.  What would be there, I wondered, that would help me prepare myself?  How would I dress for his arrival?  How would I look to this one rumoured of possessing a heartbreaking, breathtaking beauty?  I immediately felt unprepared for this encounter.  My imagination spun gossamer webs of flowing silk gowns, opal veils and delicate strings of pearls.  Of course, I thought, heart thumping wildly.  I would have to look perfect.  I would have to capture his love at first glance.

When I opened the door and stepped inside, it was not the tulle and chiffon bridal shop I had envisioned.  What I saw was a full-length mirror instead.  Inhaling deeply, I was consumed by the familiar sense of dread as I stood to face my reflection.  I could have cried.  I was about to meet the embodiment of perfection, the one of my dreams, and I could not have looked any more unworthy.  It just would not do. The harsh reminder of my physical flaws, so exaggerated and beastly in my eyes, and ordinary, ill-fitting street clothes was distressing in this anticipated meeting, which was thus far unfolding like a fairy tale.  In a moment of petulant anger, I kicked the mirror — hard — and shards of shattered glass sprinkled down to the grass.  

I waited.  I couldn’t feel his closeness, could feel nothing but my anger with myself and my unsatisfactory appearance.  The door behind me was locked and there was no way of getting back to the clearing, the beauty of which I didn’t feel I deserved.  I felt unlovely and unlovable, disappointed that it had all ended this way.  I was supposed to be a princess, clothed in splendour, resplendent, waiting to unite with my beloved.  He would not have me now, this man of infinite beauty.  I was ugly, soiled, unworthy … as broken as the chips of glass scattered at my feet.  Tears fell unguarded.  

It was in that state that he came to me in the smallest of whispers.

Beautiful, he said.

“No!” I cried.  ”You’ve made a mistake.  I’m not beautiful and you cannot see me like this.  This is not how it’s supposed to be.  It was supposed to be perfect … everything was perfect until you instructed me to open the door and prepare myself.  This isn’t right.  You cannot love this.”

I do, he said, the holiest of vows.  I love you.

“You can’t!” I argued.  ”I’m not perfect, I’m not beautiful, and I’m not ready to meet you this way.”

But I want you this way.  

“Why?”  I asked, incredulous.  ”It’s just … it’s just … not … good.”

I say that it is good, he said.

I flung a handful of glittering stars onto the tapestry of the night sky and said it was good.

I carved the highest mountains and lowest valleys with my hands and said it was good.

I hung the fiery sun and glowing moon into the balance of the universe and said it was good.

I breathed and the wind blew, I wept and the oceans surged from my eyes and said it was good.

I painted sunsets from burnished gold and opaline pinks with loving brushstrokes and said it was good.

I promised you a ribbon of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple after violent storms and said it was good.

I made for you this secret garden, a place for you and me alone from the intricate architecture of your heart’s desires.

 I thought of you long before all of this.  I wrote your name in my book, sketched your portrait, plotted out your life journey from conception to death.  With the same love and creative passion I gave to the sky, sun, moon, stars, sunsets, rainbows, oceans, and secret gardens, I created you.

And it is good.

It is beautiful.

I wanted to believe this, for the voice was slowly unraveling the barriers surrounding my heart.  

You may not believe me, he said, but that’s okay.  You may feel ugly and unlovable and flawed and imperfect, but that doesn’t change what is true.  I will never change, waver, or grow tired of your unbelief.  I will never stop loving you and calling you what you are, which is beautiful because you are mine.  My love is stronger than your deepest protestations, your greatest hurts, and the most convincing lies.  It is stronger than your most intelligent arguments, your darkest feelings, and your tainted ideals of beauty and perfection.  

I, who created and am the very embodiment of beauty, say you are Beautiful.

With these words, I was transported back to the clearing where he stood with his hand out, waiting patiently.  No words in any human language could convey the beauty I saw standing there before me.  If I could describe to you what I saw when I looked in his eyes, I would. But I can’t.

…

Still he waits, arms open.

Loving.

Beautiful. 

–by Alison Potstra