Let every valley be filled in.
Every mountain and hill laid low.
To try and fail and fall into the depths is no sin.
We may own few seeds but still we can sow.

I dreamt I had left undone something vital.
My mobile was broken, I was desperate, there was something to prove.
I could just have walked a few steps and done it myself and earned requital.
But I would or could not move.

That deep valley is in our hearts, fear.
That mountain we cannot climb is within us.
This wilderness is here.
Yet we can still win.

We can emerge from this desolate plain.
We can with his help wipe away every stain.

He will be gracious to you when he hears your cry.
When he hears he will answer.
He hears us, we hope, we sigh.
Yet we do not try to listen, we are the dancer.

I dreamt that there was great excitement for a game.
I was setting up, I hoped a popular cricket match.
But only one child and one other came.
And there was only one stump, there was no one even to a catch.

The bowling was underarm, I woke with a dread feeling of disappointment.
So many ventures in my life.
So many failures, never being content.
So many projects that just splutter, ending up short is rife.

But I read in Isaiah that on every high mountain there will be streams and watercourses.
And somehow with every new dream and every new day comes new resources.

The deaf that day will hear the words of a book.
And after shadow and darkness the eyes of the blind will see.
The book is open, we only have to look.
From our doubts we need only flee.

I was reading St Benedict’s rule.
Speak the truth with heart and tongue.
Do I view speaking the entire truth as argument’s only tool.
Or for that am I too high strung.

In that poem yesterday.
I said I dreamt of the rain.
But I only said that to rhyme with plain on that sad day.
I should have said in a good rhyme too that the traffic forced me into a choked lane.

So I am like everyone else , subject to passing emotion.
Truth is, I fear, a multifaceted notion.

We have a strong city.
To guard us he has set around us wall and rampart.
Above all we need pity.
Faithfulness will be a start.

I dreamt that I was driving in a city in the rain.
Suddenly I turned aside to avoid a jam , now I could see far.
But I was now in an empty, flat featureless blasted plain.
And as I drove all power left my car.

And all seemed hopeless and I ground to a halt.
And then suddenly I was in a happy crowded wedding banquet in a church.
All doubt vanished , with nothing could I find fault.
I was free now , while before I had been left in the lurch.

It was as if the gates had been opened.
And the righteous had been allowed in, happy if chastened.

On this mountain he will remove the morning veil.
Covering all peoples.
I will follow Isaiah’s tale.
His voice sings from the steeples.

I dreamt last night that I saw a boat.
It was right at the end of an endless pier, moored.
The sea was jet black, the boat barely afloat.
As I sat on I felt lonely and tired.

I remembered these words, the lord will wipe away.
The tears from every cheek.
So hope can hold sway.
I can continue to seek.

It is too soon to exult and rejoice.
But soon enough to listen to his voice.

Integrity is the loincloth around his waist.
Faithfulness the belt around his hips.
The poetry of Isaiah during Advent is sweet to the taste.
The cup comes easily to the lips.

This voice from the eighth century BC.
We who walk in darkness can see his great light.
In the light we stand in his shadow’s lea.
After nearly three thousand years his verse glows bright.

The wolf lies down with the lamb.
The panther lies down with the kid.
When we read these his words how can we say we don’t give a damn.
He inspires, does not forbid.

So we return to that word integrity.
What do we personally want to leave to posterity.