Bird As A Prophet

(picture taken through my van’s  windshield @ Cap Gris Nez, France)

O little bird how graciously you sing,
while night is darkening your wings,
you are the Herald of the morning,
my hands are open for your offering,
there is my Heart, O little bird, your
soft whisper, your silent touch, I can’t
ignore, O, little bird, you Prophet
of the Dawn to come, my hands are
opening for your offering, my ears are
singing, all in tune, O little bird, my eyes
are closed in darkness, I keep wandering
into the night, breathing in, breathing out,
I offer you my heart, I welcome you into
my Soul, O little bird, how graciously you
sing, while night is darkening your wing.



music by Robert Schuman, Forrest Scenens, Op.82/7, The Prophet Bird

Maria Assumpta



@ Maria Assumptalyceum, Brussels, a gift 😉


O piissima Virgo Maria,
non esse auditum a saeculo,
quemquam ad tua currentem praesidia,
tua implorantem auxilia, aut tua petentem suffragia
a te esse derelictum.
Ego tali animatus fiducia,
ad te Virgo virginum Maria
Mater Iesu Christi, confugio,
ad te venio, ad te curro,
noli, Domina mundi, noli aeterni Verbi Mater verba mea despicere,
sed audi propitia et exaudi me miserum ad te in hac lacrimarum valle clamantem.
Adsis mihi, obsecro, in omnibus necessitatibus meis, nunc et semper,
et maxime in hora mortis meae.
O clemens, o pia, o dulcis Virgo Maria!


O most gracious Virgin Mary,
that never was it known
that anyone who fled to thy protection,
implored thy help, or sought thy intercession
was left unaided by thee.
Inspired with this confidence,
I fly to thee,
Mary, Virgin of virgins, Mother of Jesus Christ;
to thee do I come; before thee I stand,
O Mistress of the World and Mother of the Word Incarnate,
despise not my petitions,
but in thy mercy hear and answer wretched me crying
to thee in this vale of tears.
Be near me, I beseech thee, in all my necessities, now and always,
and especially at the hour of my death.
O clement, o loving, o sweet Virgin Mary.

(15th century prayer, made popular by Fr. Claude Bernard, the Poor Priest )

see history @ :


There is little left, as if all the snow
has melted, all the birds unwinged,
fallen angels, lovers lost in agony,
their song is echoed by the water
now that keeps on pouring in my
home land, o, there is little left, a
treetop reaching out, six thousand
rings that lead to this, o, there is
little left, all has melted, lovers lost.


What are we looking for, since what we
hope to find has always been at heart.
There is a seagull gliding proudly on
the breeze, waving, calling but we keep
on turning our own wheel of fortune.
How then could we stumble on a hidden
treasure if what we hope to find has always
been at heart? We have forgotten how its
beating was a steady compass even during
stormy weather. We have forgotten how
its silent drum never once let us down.
How could we not but tenderly accept
its offering? What are we hiding from?
Is it our fear to be discovered, to be
left uncovered by the wings of Love?
Then what we’re looking for is not our
heart’s desire, but only heart’s disease,
and to be cured we need to listen to the
seagull’s call. When we are looking for
that hidden treasure then the map is
here, we wrote it on the breeze, waving,
calling, gliding proudly, easily.

(picture taken @ Biarritz, France, Atlantic Ocean)

Prayer To Our Lady Of The Snow

Some smoke is dancing in the snow,
it makes me think of You, my Love,
some smoke is dancing in the snow,
there are no leaves and trees are naked,
O my Love, some smoke is dancing
with the snow, is there a message
then for me, are You inviting me, O,
so graciously, so graciously, I hear
Your voice, it hasn’t melted yet,
O Lord, my Lord of Frost, shall You
then keep Her here, before my Love
has melted, melted by some smoke,
here, dancing in the snow.

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