Abbot John of Forde at prayer
All the wonders under heaven and earth
would take more than a lifetime to enumerate –
why then, to be surprised, that One
can speak to such as me,
not in my outer ear, but straight
into my inner ear – nay, right into my soul
his gnosis whispers as it were myself
that spoke it… whispers
such sweet things,
that though they blessedly inform my later words
- as these to you – yet they tremble
in their truth, upon the very edge of words;
whispers such new things to me,
though such things, old to Him,
old, but present; thus, they’re ever new…
for this, I’d waited; waited in the stillness of my heart;
now listened as it were to all
my life explained to me; not, not in judgment,
but in the sweetest grace of friendly intimacy;
and then, when I can no longer hold
Him to me, dare to ask for further news of my true self,
He’s gone…
At first, it was the sweetest pain, His going;
and then one day, I learned as from myself
the way to share with Him, his return journey –
which for Him must be – as must have been – joy beyond all joy;
returning to His Father… so I accompanied Him
with gratitude and praise…
and then I learned, when I accompanied Him
to that place where all inner and all outer meet,
a further, private, holy thing – His Father’s love
for Him… which aforetimes had been but words
that I believed to be beyond man’s mind…
the whisper in my thought, now thunder in the world;
silent thunder in the mind, flashing lightning in the soul;
yet in the silent church, I by the altar there, sounded
near as altar candle’s peaceful flame:
I knew that what men call a mystery,
is daylight truth as visible as mountains or as streams:
that what men read as words, dance off the page
in holy silence, to the heart: the Holy Trinity
was, is now to me, as necessary and inevitable,
as Man and God; as living, now, as God and Man;
as living, now, as Grace.
So John of Forde records for us, by grace of grace itself.
[John of Forde, c.1145 – 1214, is a newly translated witness
to the undivided Church in an age when spirituality,
scholarship, and poetry of speech came together at their height.]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
John of Forde, his witness
John of Forde
Kneeling there, the candles living flame
in the darkened abbey, brother monks
still and silent at the golden altar rail,
kneeling there, clearing that inner space
into which may enter what God wills –
sometimes He takes me unawares;
murmurs like a gentle thunder
some clear message beyond words
yet winging into crystal sentences,
and that, a treasure-house of joy…
why do I call it sweet, this moment
savoured, indescribable? Because
there is no other word… why do I say,
ah, He has called me to the marriage feast..?
How else to tell you how, at that,
everything becomes delight,
everything becomes a glory?
and the glory is delight;
delight, in truth, the glory.
[adapted from Sermon 43 of Abbot John of Forde Abbey, c.1145-1214]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Holy Baptism
The water bathes the body but
The Holy Spirit works within,
When words divine uttered makes one
A member of Lord Jesus Christ!
The grace of God brings marked change;
Past sins and punishments are gone;
The sacrament called Baptism
Brings us to Christ and is the first!
‘Unless a man is born again,
Of water and of Holy Ghost,
He cannot enter God’s Kingdom! ’
Said Jesus Lord to Apostles.
The rite is simple; so, the words;
The cleansing is of soul, mind, heart;
The grace of God gets poured within,
As one is freed from every sin.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-19-2009
poem by John Celes
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Can't be undone
The truth remains same and can't be undone
The past and by gone may remain always bygone
The God has given you beautiful mind to inscribe on paper
It is how you feel and ink it on the subject matter
It does not remain then poetry
They are hidden words and not mystery
Every kind heart might have felt its impact
Let us make it as unforgettable holy act
Some one may see it as real art
Some words may be inserted as skillful craft
What actually you are doing with words?
Making it sharper than even swords?
Mind may read several things and store
It may add little or even more
The imagery may not remain ever confined
The feeling may come out and stay as defined
Poetry is reflection of clear mind
Many ideas may find mention and find
The safe refuge to come out at free will
It has to reside there and wait for still
It is like holy temple, mosque or church
You can create space, place and make search
It will create perfect environment with recognition
Only it will need proper key for ignition
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Laid me to rest and take me in your Hands
let the sacred soul return, the spirit that tired from a
bounded journey and nestle in the acumen of fresh
hyacinth of angels home, the endless paradise of the
seven heaven glows of avenue with the ONE
laid, my holy body in the engrave stone and shower
with a drops of the sacred fume of incense; with
the harmony of notes in the altar park to stand, glow
and wind the candle chandelier, with the angel's
choir in every ladder i step in the garrison of soul,
where I come from
let me speak of the language of the angel, and seat
a side with the judge as i remain calm, silent me in
the midst and wait till, the sun will lead me to rest,
touch me dear Holy One, for my aching soul fall me
down, leaving my wounded spirit to lay my head in
the soil, for i forever return
rise me at the end of the day; a second, a minute, an
hour, is just a longing to see, tears dropp wouldn't
hold me to be in the heaven i permanent stay, melted
candle and scented silent prayer will only appease
your mercy in me, may the grace and mercy pity my
poor soul for the judgment will always be with me
live no regret; humble your heart and leaving no
souls stray; pure every moment with your love one
and take each day that seems you leave with nobody
want you to be free
be ready and leave with full of joy and happiness in
your heart........its everybody's Journey...
poem by Antonio Liao
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Quiet Thunder
The whisper comes
so close
feather light
on my face,
warm
to my cheek,
a low
Quiet Thunder.
Whispers
are where intimacy lives
where moments freeze
where time is mesmerizing;
all faculties
peak;
alert
anticipating another
whisper-leaf tone
falling
to my ear
still half asleep.
But the content is clear;
someone is whispering
'I love you'
Only the intimacy
which comes on
whisper wings
floats true.
I imagine
God's first call
was
a whispering one.
That Love's first utterings
were not loud
but soft
rustlings
from a softly lilting heart.
Sadly too.
my moms last words
were whispers;
her breath
wispy
tailing off
whisper lost.
Most of my real moments-
small child hurt
or comforted-
come in whispered tones
or moments said
'You'll be alright.'
All in all
its clear
whispers come
when the soul speaks
which is why I listen
to the Quiet Thunder
they represent.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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His True Church
I know many religious people, and one Church with no steeple,
A church that’s built with no walls, built on only believing souls,
Built upon an Eternal Foundation, that being our very Salvation,
Built upon The One Cornerstone, and that is Jesus Christ alone.
Many, who worship in a building, to Truth alone, are unyielding,
Building a church on tradition, God’s Truth, with man’s addition,
Added to the work finished by, Jesus Christ who reigns on high,
Ignoring His words “it is finished”, Grace by many is diminished.
Men making a way to Heaven, not by grace but religious leaven,
Building church in a human way, as they lead many souls astray,
As many souls weekly perch, in the pews of a manmade church,
Relying on their religious activity, to help them work into eternity.
“I will build my Church” He said, that was Christ, who is the Head,
Head of His True Church on earth, filled with souls, by New Birth,
All members being Born Again, into His Church, not one of men,
You’ll find, you no longer search, as a member of God’s Church.
Jesus is the Way, Truth and Life, as Head of the Church of Christ,
And each of us is a living stone, built through faith in Christ alone,
His Church He proceeds to build, to complete as His Father willed,
Leading the only True Church friend, as others shall see in the end.
Strange Kind Of Love
I once thought I had the love of God in my heart;
a feeling of oneness in which everyone is a part.
But as time went by and the days passed
that feeling of oneness did not really last.
I would search inside my heart to try and find
the love of God I thought had been left behind.
But as I looked eagerly there like a bloodhound
what I seemed to come across was less profound.
Then in the darkness of my mind I began to see a light;
It was coming and going, unsteady, to my inner sight.
The longer that I looked at it in wonder each day,
it seemed to speak to me without any words to say.
I would often marvel in awe how this could be
a spark of faith and hope from deep inside me.
So each day I would praise God in my heart with love
dedicating all action, words and thought to Him above.
The Love of God returned it seemed in some way
as a feeling of oneness swelled in my heart to play.
Life seemed sweet, almost as if too good to be true
and many things that were old appeared to be new.
I began also to know things which before went over my head
and to fathom the mysteries of what in books had been read.
It was in daily life experiences though that the truth shined through
as my mind was refined to witness what the Others taught and knew.
I would grasp and revel in subtle things which were lofty and divine
and then go about each day as if I was drunk on some kind of wine.
Everything all around seemed to be holy and possessed a hidden light,
encompassing all creatures and objects, that was revealed to my sight.
poem by George Krokos
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The Holy Sabbath Day
God created the things He thought
Over the six days of the week,
And being pleased with His own work,
The Sabbath Day of rest, He sought!
God made the Sabbath Day for man
So that his body, heart and mind,
From week-days’ drudgery, rest find,
And thereby increase his life’s span!
God made the Sabbath Day holy
So that man could be nearer God,
And keep his soul afilled with grace,
And keep the heaven’s road always!
The Sabbath Day is crucial
For man to keep off diseases
Those afflict him these modern days,
And add more years to life on earth.
The Sabbath is the answer to
The affluent illnesses that
Affect most men including stress,
Avoiding all things of excess!
Man, keep the Sabbath Day holy;
Give rest to body, mind and heart;
Cleanse soul from sins by divine art,
And do your duty for your part.
On this day, think of God much more,
And thank Him for His blessings shown;
Pray fervently from your heart’s core,
And keep off evils known, unknown!
For, holy, holy is the Lord
Of heavens, earth – the most high God;
Whatever He says may look odd;
All will be fine, heeding His Word!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-23-2009
poem by John Celes
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God of Wonder
Oh God of wonder
God of Grace
Here I stand before you
Humbled and broken
Speak of Your love
Oh Father, Oh Father
Speak of Your Grace
Oh God of earth
God of Heavenly place
My heart opened to receive
My heart abides in You
Speak of Your love
Oh Father, Oh Father
Speak of Your Grace
Oh God of Love
Oh God of endless mercy
Open my eyes to see You
By Spirit blest by You
Speak of Your love
Oh Father, Oh Father
Speak of Your Grace
poem by Lisa Finney
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As The Spirit Fills
Verse by verse and line by line; The Spirit fills the heart and mind.
The Spirit moves on a scribe, to pen the words down deep inside.
God uses men to reach the world, with a message for us to herald.
Some may speak while other men, The Lord above uses their pen.
Apostles would speak The Word, and men believed as they heard.
It was God’s Word they received, that would lead them to believe.
As New Believers they would go, and share so others could know,
The saving Grace of Jesus Christ, so they too could have New Life.
As The Truth began to spread, many would use parchment instead.
And The Truth many would heed, from words that they would read.
Either way, God’s Truth we share, with all those for whom we care.
Allow The Spirit to move your heart, so God’s Truth we can impart.
My friend, God will use anyone, to share The Truth about His Son.
Using any form of communication, to reach the lost with Salvation.
Join the Apostles and Prophets of old, sharing Truth till all are told,
About The Lord and Savior above, sent to all by The Father’s Love.
God still moves upon men today, helping us with the words to say,
For me the verses seem to flow, while The Spirit helps me to grow.
As I write the words aren’t mine, for my source is above and Divine.
It is The Spirit who fills my pen, and to this friend, I just say Amen.
(Copyright ©01/2006)
Candlelight
So many bees, who know so much
that only bees can tell,
gave their life’s devotion
to this single source of light;
silent whisper for your attention
to what it has to tell your sight,
before its substance burns, returns
into the upper air…
gently burns on altar, or scented in the bathroom’s grace;
or here in front of you, gentle hypnotist
for the wandering mind;
to which it has so much to tell..
tells of humility; gently burning
in a stable, before a birth;
tells of loving-kindness; gives itself,
yet asks for nothing but to be itself;
tells of worship: worship, first, of what the bees are;
and here in this honey-coloured form
is their own worship;
waxing silent in murmured devotion;
warming miraculously, into liquid wax;
only love can be so liquid;
only love can reach so far;
liquid, warmed into this present light:
the candle’s flame you know so well
yet cannot shape or hold;
already, candle hints to you
that there is that beyond all sense:
for round its light, air’s gently warmed:
drawing the flame itself into the invisible above
like the soul that’s yearning for its homeland;
and beyond, within, that air you cannot see
unless it moves some other thing,
it lights the space – space which is not
bathroom, altar; but all space;
candle tells you of all that;
draws the mind with steady, silent truth
to all creation in a single flame;
flame that asks for naught of you
but your attention; which it will reward
by telling you in stillness,
what you worship in yourself;
the light of self, that shines before all men
and glorifies its maker
like a gentle flame that cannot be put out.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Tangible Proof
Tangible proof of The Living God, came to walk on this earthly sod,
In Jesus Christ, God’s Own Son, The Lord and Savior of everyone.
Christ came to minister for all to see, The Living God of all Eternity,
He appeared in The Father’s Place, beginning God’s Age of Grace.
All the men who saw Christ that day, saw the Father in a living way,
Being sent by The Father above, to show all men His Father’s love.
God, who spoke thru prophets of old, sent His Son for all to behold.
No one ever looked on God’s face, apart from His awesome Grace.
Jesus was not just a man by birth; He was the very God of the earth,
The God-Man and Son Jesus Christ, sent to be The Lord’s sacrifice,
Paying sin’s price so we could be, the children of God for all Eternity.
God chose to send His Only Son, to die for the sin that we had done.
It’s only thru the Son Jesus Christ, can we know the Father in this life,
The Way God had revealed himself to, fallen sinners like me and you.
Jesus said The Father lived in Him, the Lamb of God who had no sin,
While Christ our Savior also knew, He himself lived in The Father too.
On returning to His Throne on high, Christ sent His Spirit to you and I,
So that He’d never have to depart, Christ came to live inside our heart.
Christ also has a place for you and me, to live with God for all Eternity,
Where after this present Age of Grace, we’ll see The Lord face to face.
The Truth Within
Fons et origo boni ple luxque perenis
Salvificet pietas tua nos bone rector, eleison
The golden wine flows through my veins
I know the meaning behind the holy words
A lesson must be learned - so listen all
Let your heart rule or we all must fall
We cry out for help, a prayer for your soul
When you will know the end is near,
you will faster crawl
The whole body withdraws with the pain of birth
And once again I know the true meaning of life
Once again I know that looking through their eyes
... As they came with their love...
I know the truth of life and it lies before my eyes
The truth lies within you know
The truth lies within the holy words
song performed by by Orphaned Land
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mind's Polarities
It’s said – and so it seems to be –
that when the individual mind
emerges from that place where mind
rests, perfect, and in unity with all things to be known –
in that place, which is; within us, and without us:
that in that moment, as the mind expands,
and as its sphere within expands to match that sphere without,
polarities arise; such axis as may join them
to lie hidden and forgot; instead we see
all as remotenesses, that grow ever more the farther;
and then – the aweful nature of the human lie –
name them ‘opposites’… and in that step,
a further one, ‘duality’…
and so, condemn ourselves to fruitless life
where, across the vast mind’s sphere,
sadness – let’s say – sees, far off, that pure happiness -
too far, too far, to be within its reach…
and happiness, seeing far off, sadness, seeks in pleasure
to keep its distance…and so, the balance swings,
the world wags, and the mind knows only restlessness…
and knows, desire… how we forget,
we could not know desire, but that we knew
what desire desires; what’s missing in our world;
sadness, knowing the happiness; what would sadness be
without its knowing, in full, its happiness? ..
if we but saw desire as grace; looked at it with clear eye;
we might see, lurking there within,
beyond the warnings of its waywardness,
that holy thing that yearns alway for onefulness…
and as we have departed,
then by grace, so we return;
find by that third perfect point;
that eye that sees, from its eternal home,
duality to resolve in unity..
and all absolved, we’re absolute..
*
this, by mine own hand… writ
in a deep yearning sadness;
sadness that would fain convince itself
that happiness, this morning, is too distant; so, then,
to abide in sorrowed sadness…
and yet, there are strange joys,
where sadness meets all other things, in duty and in law;
speaks of all things in some strange disguise;
finds its heart, where heart it never sought;
and so, if words may do
what words should do, I name this poem’s end
its true beginning: name it now,
dedicating it, to truth and joy, and to myself:
A Poem in Praise of Happiness.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Soul song: Is This Farewell, Or Simply Au Revoir?
'Soul' – you’ve stood your ground now
for many thousand years; even when
they said God’s dead – and lightning did not strike..
you’ve held our hopes of heaven; even when
we ceased to know just where they were
no longer sky and blue and white and grey,
in thunder and in innocence;
and kept our thoughts of death and life,
filed ‘To Whom It May Concern’;
you have two lodgings still: within
church doors; at graveside; and at prayer;
more of a signpost: ‘Keep to
the public path’, than certain destination;
and still living in that music’s ecstasy
that stirs the feet and lets the heart burst forth…
but now? as God and heaven hide their face
because we cease to look their way,
have you drawn up that lovely silken veil
across your face; that Indian face
that knows its ‘soul’ as servant of the Self;
has known it now for full ten thousand years?
or do you lurk now in laboratories
of cranial research, brain-scan; and
consulting rooms of cognitive research;
to walk in, smile and laugh and say
oh did you miss me? …
or do you whisper in the present ear
of writers on The Power of Now?
Or one day soon, will you reveal
you were, before the Holy Spirit was?
Tomorrow, Soul, how shall I say your name
in silent prayer? in mind beyond all words?
Love needs no name in presence evermore; so,
'Soul' – is this farewell? or simply, au revoir?
*
[out of a conversation with a Doctor of Theology]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Poetry and Poet
Poetry is poet's inner world,
Churnings of Self in distinct words;
Poetry is not black and white,
Grey, nuances of diverse hues
In kaleidoscopic word-networks
That capture all formless clouds
In the deep sky of the poet's world.
Poetry is poet's outer world,
His expressions in proper norms;
Bare thoughts, his rogue fights within
Dressed well for the popular nod;
Poet's world, a messy snake-pit,
A burrow of rats, snakes, insects,
Fighting to spring in riotous words,
Filter'd for world in elegant words.
Poetry is never a judgement,
Sheer whispers from heart to heart
Beyond what words do transport;
Words in lilt and dance, poetry,
Links they bond, cadence they ring,
Makes a poetry, a true poetry,
A mirror of poet's inner turmoils,
His hopes and strengths in right words,
Indecisions he suffer, his deeper Self.
Poetry is release from inner cauldron,
Steams from within in guise of words,
Quiet flames of the inner hearth
That flared for long finding a vent;
Poetry, a relief, a joy of sharing,
Sharing the Self with the world outside,
Back to the source from where all came;
Poet is the priest, poetry, his hymns,
Offered to the world for peace and grace.
Poetry sprouts from the morass of soul
And grows out of poet like pipal tree
And outstays him;
Fleeting is poet, but not his poems,
Poetry is the poet universalised;
It sucks his thoughts, sucks his force,
Spreads outwards to enrich the world
And leaves the poet richer and strong
Like fire and good deeds always are,
How much you share, so richer you are.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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Psalm 122
Going to church.
How did my heart rejoice to hear
My friends devoutly say,
"In Zion let us all appear,
And keep the solemn day!"
I love her gates, I love the road;
The church, adorned with grace,
Stands like a palace built for God,
To show his milder face.
Up to her courts with joys unknown
The holy tribes repair;
The Son of David holds his throne,
And sits in judgment there.
He hears our praises and complaints;
And while his awful voice
Divides the sinners from the saints,
We tremble and rejoice.
Peace be within this sacred place,
And joy a constant guest!
With holy gifts and heav'nly grace
Be her attendants blest!
My Soul shall pray for Zion still,
While life or breath remains;
There my best friends, my kindred dwell,
There God my Savior reigns.
poem by Isaac Watts
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I Am What I Am
My life has become what it is by God's Grace and His Grace all alone,
For God chose me and sought me out, to make me one of His very own.
He provided in my life a witness through my wife of what I could be,
Though they were once darkened, through my eyes, His Grace I can see.
Because I never read it, I knew not the Truths in the Bible at all,
And that I was a sinner destined for Hell because of Adam's fall.
I was taught to believe that there was a God in the heavens up above,
But never was I told about God's Grace, Mercy and His Abundant Love.
I thought that my living a good life down on earth was simply enough,
For me to go into heaven when I died, to be with The Lord up above.
When I realized it was not me at all but only the Blood of The Cross,
The Lord filled me with His desire to share the Gospel with the lost.
When I began, the one thing that I lacked was the boldness to share,
The Eternal Truth of how The Lord loved me and how much He did care.
As I read the Bible, my first example was John the Baptist for sure,
When speaking of Jesus, he said, “I must be less so He can be more.”
This then filled me with The Lord's boldness and a new Eternal sight,
And with my eyes now on Eternity, Jesus became the center of my life.
I can truly say as the Apostle Paul did and with the same humble nod,
Today I am what I am, truly and only by the Grace of Almighty God.
(Copyright © 06/2002)
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace. (Gerald Albright's Kicking it up #6)
God, I just do not understand why
You treat me so good everyday.
In spite of all of my sins and all of my mistakes,
You are still good to me.
Yes, you are; my God really is.
My God is so wonderful.
He has provided for all of my needs.
He created the sun to shine brightly everyday.
God has supplied the very air that I breathe.
Yes, He does.
My God is so good to me each day.
He has provided for all of my needs.
God sends out the cooling invisible breeze.
He produced all of the food that I eat.
Yes he does; now help me say it.
Our God is a God of mercy.
He truly deserves all of our praise.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.
Our God is a God of mercy.
He wakes us up every single day.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.
My God is so wonderful.
He provides me with His grace each day.
All I need to do is confess my sins to Him,
He has promised to forgive every one.
Yes, He does.
All that God has ask me to do
Is give to Him all of my praise every day.
By the life that I have chosen to live
I must show the world that my God is.
Now open your mouth and help me praise Him.
Our God is a God of mercy.
He truly deserves all of our praise.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.
Our God is a God of mercy.
He wakes us up every single day.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
All we need to do is ask
He will answer our every prayer.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace
He hears all of our prayers.
He really listens to the words we say.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace
He will always be right there
He guides every single step that we take.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace
No matter, what we may go through
He has promised to show us the way.
I will always praise you, my God.
You have been good to me.
You saved my soul
You set me free from sin.
Our God is a God of mercy.
He truly deserves all of our praise.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.
Our God is a God of mercy.
He wakes us up every single day.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.
Our Father, hollowed be your most holy name
Our God is a God of mercy
O’ how much I love you
Our God is a God of mercy
You have saved my soul and set me free
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that He is.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
All we need to do is ask
He will answer our every prayer.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace
He hears all of our prayers.
He really listens to every word we say.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace
He will always be right there
He guides every single step that we take.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace
No matter, what we may go through
He has promised to show us the way.
Let me hear you say it with me.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
Let me hear you give him praise.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
Our God is a God of mercy.
He truly deserves all of our praise.
Our God is a God of wonder and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.
Our God is a God of mercy.
He wakes us up every single day.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.
poem by Reginald Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Olney Hymn 59: A Living And A Dead Faith
The Lord receives his highest praise
From humble minds and hearts sincere;
While all the loud professor says
Offends the righteous Judge's ear.
To walk as children of the day,
To mark the precepts' holy light,
To wage the warfare, watch, and pray,
Show who are pleasing in His sight.
Not words alone it cost the Lord,
To purchase pardon for His own;
Nor will a soul by grace restored
Return the Saviour words alone.
With golden bells, the priestly vest,
And rich pomegranates border'd round,
The need of holiness expressed,
And called for fruit as well as sound.
Easy indeed it were to reach
A mansion in the courts above,
If swelling words and fluent speech
Might serve instead of faith and love.
But none shall gain the blissful place,
Or God's unclouded glory see,
Who talks of free and sovereign grace,
Unless that grace has made him free!
poem by William Cowper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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