Maps

I M A G E : P R O P O S A L F O R C A T H E D R A L E X T E N S I O N , W I N C H E S T E R

I M A G E S B Y M R A J B R I N K M A N . ©

MAPS IMAGE GODS LOVE.

A crowded street

Free of obstacles

A view through,

Framed in eternity

A landmark

Navigating the way;

To a square.

An entrance to

A house

Punctured by glass

A vessel

Providing containment

A reflection

The reverse translation

The mind

Seeing greater than has been found.

Climbing

Metal

Armoury door

Light dispels the truth

Heaven might be there.

Today

We’re gathered

With his majesty in mind.

Through constant transition

We help him to show

Our inner journeys light

Through him

We are in love

For all of us have fallen

At some time

All of us have grace

For our sakes

Let us stay true

For we must let these days

Of Solitude

Guide Us.

God is a gift

Curii rest

6 billion years of progress

And war devolves

A gift of creation

Verily it took one nation

To take them all

Now we replace

Sion’s haste

With love and reparation

Giving

Gifts instead of taking.

One must reject everything

In order

To truly embrace it.

A common language.

Of the stars

The sun

The moon

All natural goals,

Are to charge us with life

All pre-tense fails

And happiness reigns

We enter the door.

Stairs to left and right,

The man in the moon will smile

For we have not lost

Just started to care

For one and another

All things within.

Under the Judas tree,

On ergonomic wooden seats.

Maybe it’s eternal,

To always go on finding

Learning over again

When it sparks that is when

One begins

Always drawing our wisdom

In a smile.

Between all faiths.

That will make one feel whole

Up to the roof

And re-charging

Those springs in the mind

Those glass shards, wrapping around me.

If doubtful

Just try

And reach

You will never know where heaven begins

And ends

If doubtful we seek

To giving back

Then we will start things over again

And sometimes we find it

We hide

Because we are all lost at sea

Only the sea is quietly breathing in,

Never sigh

Just hold your head high,

Keep those intricacies within

For all is not told,

In Hebrew so old.

Laughter will ultimately begin again,

To write it to see

And you may find your heart to be.

From the journey you make it

Then teach how to break it

Now dig

For your sin

When all is crossed

Keep adding within,

Subtracting,

Multiplying,

Simple calculus,

Never feel small

Just as proud as us

Once we are crowned like Jesu

We will lift up the ground

Then start.

And begin to spread our wings.

If I die tomorrow

I will wish I had seen all those sorrows that

Would have made me live

It is only tomorrow I

Can live for

But I will never really know

What for

Only that it would be good if I did.

The image of God’s love is mapped on the ground in cruciform shape.

Research to the fore of symbology, climbing ever higher we maintain devices to guide us through technology, but the essence of the visceral stone on ground breaks the mould more so. And curtails the grace of the Lord to triple translations of traded traces in God’s money: our freedom we hail the King.

Only superseded by our elders at times of loss we Christ ourselves to the infantry of tribes to look along a mist of indictment. The garden supplants, so that public space can act as a relic.

Ruins, foundations and crowns leave a mark on the ground for making tide of fire, and time of reluctance to delve further. Individually we see light. When we close our eyes as we adjust, and that light is always within us for its fortitude of spiritual living.

Making out firmly in dwelling, and time, space and place we make our lives in the maelstrom of our demise. We are essentially gathered here today to give love and light to God, whatever that holds for us, under or over the sea, upon land or within the heavens.

For Jesu son of God makes us think thus:

When we are nearly there, there is no crucifixion for us but the tumult of joy to stay alive amongst our relics, winnings and celebratory successes. Our Church begins at home, for where God loves us, as much as his own Theurgist House.

Domesticity always call us.