The Unitarian Universalist Congregation in Westport
10 Lyons Plains Rd., Westport, CT 06880 - Ph: (203)227-7205 Sunday Services: 10:00 AM
When we come to it We, this people, on this minuscule … globe Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace … We, this people, on this small and drifting planet Whose hands can strike with such abandon That in a twinkling, life […]
The bugler, whoever he is, has privilege In blowing Taps, after the lights go out, After the marching and the memory work, To greet the midshipman, destined for the wars And vexed in spirit for the nation’s good, Who listens in the dark for the sound of Taps; And the accent of the messenger of […]
Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been Point […]
Last year, I admired wines. This, I’m wandering inside the red world. Last year, I gazed at the fire. This year I’m burnt kabob. Thirst drove me down to the water where I drank the moon’s reflection. Now I am a lion staring up totally lost in love with the thing itself. Don’t ask questions […]
By blue Ontario’s shore, As I mused of these warlike days and of peace return’d, and the dead that return no more, A Phantom gigantic superb, with stern visage accosted me, Chant me the poem, it said, that comes from the soul of America, chant me the carol of victory, And strike up the marches […]
It is eternity now. I am in the midst of it. It is about me, in the sunshine; I am in it, as the butterfly in the light-laden air. Nothing has to come, It is now. Now is eternity, Now is the immortal life.
These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God to-day. There is no time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence. Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; […]
Each day the first day –. Each day a life. Each morning we must hold out the chalice of our being to receive, to carry, and give back. It must be held out empty – for the past must only be reflected in its polish, its shape, its capacity. (from Markings)
My life flows on in endless song above earth’s lamentation. I hear the real though far off hymn that hails a new creation. Through all the tumult and the strife I hear the music ringing. It sounds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing! What though the tempest ’round me roars, […]
Creative love, our thanks we give that this, our world, is incomplete, that struggle greets our will to live, that work awaits our hands and feet; That we are not yet fully wise, that we are in the making still – as friends who share one enterprise and strive to blend with nature’s will. What […]
