Author Archives: Ken Greenman

This day dawns to doom as did yesterday and its yesterday and its yesterday. Each days morning morphs to mourning as each birth ends in tomb. Why, then, glory at sunrise, that fickle surprise? Why praise the light when all … Continue reading →

After nine months becoming, the fullness of time is upon me. I am pushed by a power somewhere within. I feel the pressure. I ride the wave. I gather my courage, open the door, walk on through. After five years … Continue reading →

Beseaching god to send the spirit from way out there, somewhere, to here is praying the wrong prayer! The Spirit pounds on the inside of our ribs, calling to be outside its cage, free to do its work, blowing where … Continue reading →

Be ye not leary of lust. Lust is loves kindling. See two compainonable logs, split so to rest together in the fire place, nursing simmering embers, needing only a toss of shavings and twigs to ignite the flames again. Be … Continue reading →

The want of you creates a want for you. The closer you are, the closer I am drawn, the more I ask for more. When you are far from me, I crave the touching more. What is the answer, then, … Continue reading →

I don’t believe in A GOD, but I believe in prayer. I don’t believe a virgin gave birth but I believe Mary did. I don’t believe in ressurection but I believe soul is for ever. I don’t believe in Satan … Continue reading →

( fair warning: This is a long one…. ) I’ve been coming to this park since my Mother carried me. I romped here in my childhood. Green fields and woods in the middle of my Brooklyn neighborhood. I buy a … Continue reading →

“Slow down, Son. 70 isn’t the end. But there comes a time when signs on the road ahead are not so easy to see and after a while they blur completely. Then you have a choice. Fight on through the … Continue reading →

A congregation of two, today, in our Saturday morning church. My wife and I in our four-poster bed worshiping love together. Giggling angels sneaking curious peeks through our bedroom window curtains. God smiling from Her beach-chair on the roof. What … Continue reading →

The wind of the Spirit, when it blows at all, blows strong in my family tree. My Great Grand Ma in Norway held faith close to her heart. First in Luthers reforming zeal. Then in the iron beliefs of Adventist … Continue reading →