Flourished thoughts on a harpsichord played. In her powdered wig and tight bound waist the world began to fade.

Time like lace in ruffles fell upon the black and white. Angels embellished in golden faces caught the dust of candle light.

The Church and wealthy keeping (1600 - 1750), commissioned its décor. The arts and the sciences became an Earth’s universal score.

Upon the laws of nature’s order, a New World did begin; against Rome and her infallibility, freedom of thought did begin to ascend.

Baroque minds fell in grace notes, in cherubs, and in reigns. This was an Era of Elegance, popes, kings, and emperors commissioning visual arts to eternally remain.

Against a pale moon’s pallor, the stars and planets fell, angels pushed from branches became the guardians of what God’s imagination in civilizations could foretell.

Heresy of mind, a God without motion, stirred the Roman Catholic Church and its universal history of devotion. Confined to power’s constraints, it pulled its purse strings tight and summoned the scientist Galileo and his imagination’s insights.

Even in his old age, as Galileo’s winter eyes grew weak, he summoned the courage to be the philosopher of what everyman’s God would seek.

Opera and scenery, hymnody and lines, like the threads of heaven’s needle, the thoughts began to twine.

Camels pushed through the eye, the sewing and the sown, in the fluidity of grandiosity, new visions were grown.

Into the clearing of new lands and trails, angels of mercy found their way on Earth’s coat tails.

It was a time for tuning, for architecture and the sky. In the mist of opportunity, the gilded thoughts of a Baroque civilization began to fly.

Angels formed from marble, thoughts chiseled in the light; in the Baroque Era, our guardians promoted insights.

In the corner of each mind, the gold of fortune weighs; it is not what we are taught but what our thoughts convey.

To settle in the confines of what the world perceives, is to denounce God’s imagination and how it conceives.

Upon this Christmas morning, as the grey of mind turns to gold, I play my flourished thoughts upon a harpsichord, in the light of what’s foretold.

Powdered scents anointed, the still of breath from old, what lives in us, and through us, is the greatest lesson ever told.

It is not the cup we drink from that measures our success, it is what defines us, what our imagination will profess.

May 2013 find us in the hands of our guardians, the keepers of His light. May our truth be our creation, the mystery of God’s delight.

Kathy Paysen 2013

Happy New Year!