Morning Light

Autumn has arrived 

Burlington, Iowa

The Sea of Wait

The Sea of Wait

By Peter-John Campbell

                                                                                                                                                   Drifting...

                                                                                                        Drifting...

                                                               Drifting...

Drifting. Drifting. Drifting.

Upon the Sea of Wait.

This bitter soul of mine grows cold

My heart has turned to bait.

Aimless, I float this barren tide

through every peek and trough.

The dead calm ever more to bear

then the tempest ever was.

Drifting. Drifting. Drifting.

I waft this lonely brine.

Churning like vultures the shakes await

their meal is soon to find.

Alas, on the horizon found

a glimpse of isle or land.

I strain myself for one last row

a mirage is all that's there.

Drifting. Drifting. Drifting.

My body broke' and sore

I long, I pine, I yearn, to wake

upon some distant shore.

Drifting... Drifting... Drifting...

                                                              Drifting...

                                                                                                        Drifting...

                                                                                                                                                   Drifting...

Let Us Not

Let us not

by Peter-John Campbell

Let us not be the ones who succumbed

who fail to hold the line,

and lost the battle for our sons and daughters.

Let us not be the ones who yield. 

When the sirens call, SCREAMING 

in our ears to give in to their poisonous song.

Let us not be the ones who capitulated

and compromised all we hold dear

and follow the path of least resistance. 

But, let us be the ones who will be remembered 

as those who held firm to the truth.

Who remained strong and stood against the rising tide. 

Let us be the ones who will be remembered 

as those who withstood the darkness

When the light was dim and all hope was gone.

Let us be the ones who will be remembered 

as those who endured when others' hearts fell.

And spoke 'truth' when the world yelled 'lies.'

Let us be the ones 

who remembered The Lord 

and His Word.

Let us be the ones who stood firm.

Let us not succumb 

but rather overcome

and be found faithful.  

Old Warehouse

Wondering around an old warehouse. It was extremely dark in most of the rooms and had to shoot at some high ISO's but I think I captured some interesting spots.

Christmas Bells

Right now we are living in one of those really tough times of uncertainty. There's a lot of trouble in the world. Washington is in transition. And fear is gripping the nation because we don't know what's going to happen. And it's easy for that fear to turn into despair.

It's also easy to slip into our bubble and think that 'no one else has ever gone through something like this before.' And for that, I always find it helpful to look back on history to look and see how others responded in similar times.

And I find no better story then the writing of one of my favorite Christmas Poems, Christmas Bells by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

It was Christmas morning 1864, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow awoke like many other Americans, exhausted and emotionally worn from four unrelenting years of civil war. Caring for his dying son, who had been wounded in battle, Longfellow found little comfort in the news of the re-election of Abraham Lincoln and the recent advances of the Union army.

This would also be the fourth Christmas since his wife’s tragic death, and his grief over her loss had turned to depression. Life for Longfellow was anything but ideal that Christmas.
It was in that moment he heard the bells ringing from a near by church tower, and penned these extremely honest, and now familiar words.

“Christmas Bells”Henry Wadsworth Longfellow December 25th 1864

I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on Earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on Earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime
A chant sublimeOf peace on Earth, good-will to men!

Then from each thundered in the South, And with the sound
The carols drowned

Of peace on Earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent And make forlorn
The households born
Of peace on Earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head; “There is no peace on earth,” I said; “For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on Earth, good-will to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead;
nor doth he sleep!
The wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on Earth, good-will to men!”

As I reflect on these words, I cannot seem to restrain the tears that well in my eyes as I sing the last two verses. Like the Psalmist, Longfellow is moved from despair to joy as he rests in the fact that even in a world of trouble, God is still on the throne.

– Merry Christmas- PJC 

Wood Shop

Hanging out at my father-in-law's wood shop the other day.