Tag Archives: prayer

Hearing God’s Word in Creation

27 Apr

After a long absence, I thought I would share with my readers this poem “The Word”,  by the 19th century American poet Richard Realf, which was a focal part of my meditation and prayer a couple of days ago. I continue to be moved by ruminate over its message even today.  Here the poet sweetly lauds the Cosmic Word that reverberates throughout all of Creation for all that have ears to hear.

“The Word”

O Earth! Thou hast not any wind that blows 

Which is not music; every weed of thine 

Pressed rightly flows in aromatic wine; 

And every humble hedgerow flower that grows, 

And every little brown bird that doth sing, 

Hath something greater than itself, and bears 

A living Word to every living thing, 

Albeit it hold the Message unawares. 

All shapes and sounds have something which is not 

Of them: a Spirit broods amid the grass; 

Vague outlines of the Everlasting Thought 

Lie in the melting shadows as they pass; 

The touch of an Eternal Presence thrills 

The fringes of the sunsets and the hills. 



New Series of Advent Video Reflections

5 Dec

I’d like to pass on this example from a new series of Advent video reflections that feature the beautiful artwork of Brother Mickey McGrath. The promise is that a new reflection will be posted each day throughout the Advent season. The focus of this particular video is his painting “The Annunciation.” Enjoy, be inspired, and you are certainly encouraged to share this!

“The Great I AM” (a brief poem)

25 Oct


The great I Am
Of all that is.

Each IS
As He IS

Though we
Might not
See IT
Such as
It IS.

(c) Thomas C. Webber 4/16/2013

Tiny Truffles of Heaven

3 Jan

Tiny truffles of heaven
appear each moment, wrapped
like shiny, tin-foiled presents

shyly awaiting our tug
at the ribbon of time.

(c) Thomas C. Webber 1/2/2013


Signs of Life Amidst the Trash: A Lenten Meditation

9 Mar

An entry from my journal (March 19, 2009):

It is curious to me how today

I am drawn to a solitary piece of trash

amongst all the beauty that surrounds me

in this tiny cove in which I find myself

on this late winter day.

Here I find myself staring at my feet

at the remnant of a dirty, white, plastic bag

wrapped around umber shoots

that spring from the ground.

The snow-laden landscape,

with its dry grasses, branches and barren trees,

are all painted in varying shades of sienna,

off-white, gray and black.

And yet, I find quiet beauty

in what otherwise utters the hushed, unspoken word

of “death.”


But there is that trash —

shivering sheepishly

in the chill of this late winter breeze

as it clings to and peers from behind

stalks of dried shoots,

as if playing hide-and-seek.


But as I look closer still, I notice,

almost as an afterthought,

or better, a surprise,

inconspicuous signs of life

as tiny patches of green grass

come peering through

amidst the barren rubble.


In this season of Lent,

as I seek to empty myself

of sin and self

through acts of love and prayer,

tiny signs of God’s grace

are sure to be revealed to me

here and there.

There is resurrection amongst sin and death.



(c) Thomas C. Webber 3/19/2009

The Mystic Soul: A Two-Way Mirror

10 Feb


Magritte's Painting: "The False Mirror"


The mystic soul

is a two-way mirror.


Looking out,

the soul is clear and transparent,

silently seeing all, without judgment.


Peering in,

it draws not attention to itself

but perfectly reflects the surrounding world.


But draw in closer still

with cupped hands,

and one sees that the finite and infinity

are one!


(c) Thomas C. Webber  2/10/2011

“The Winter Pilgrimage” (a poem of mine)

1 Feb

The Winter Pilgrimage

The winter landscape passed

swiftly, like an author’s preface

to a good novel.

Trees and grass rose grey-on-white

blurred, like a badly erased

master’s drawing.


All this as I was gazing out

a clear stained-glass window

Sitting in the pew of this bus

which sang and hummed

its hymn of plainchant

As we pilgrims sped on

to make the Mass

and celebrate the liturgy of Creation,

donned in its vestments of white.

© Thomas C. Webber  1/20/1990



Note: I realize that it has been over a month since I last posted but, as they say, “life happens”!  (Okay, maybe it is usually put a bit more crassly than that!) Inspired by the blizzard we are presently experiencing, I decided to dig deep into the coffers of my writings and finally pulled out a poem I wrote over 20 years ago while taking a bunch of youth up north into Michigan on a ski trip. This piece is one that I count among the best that I have to offer. It is certainly one of my personal favorites, and one that I believe almost rises to the level of deserving to be called “poetry,” a term I do not throw around lightly!  I do hope that you enjoyed reading it!

Your comments and feedback, as always are welcome and cherished!


Texas Tom (aka Tom Webber)

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