In memory of Doris M. Sparks…..

Grand CanyonA dream she had to visit, and a beauty of God she had in her own heart and gave everyday to others.

Phillip M. Sparks, Oct 08

A mother’s love is not limited to our life; it continues to grow and renews each year from the seeds of love she sowed and are nurtured by her children and their children for eternity… Love transcends her passing

With all my heart, I say adieuAnd give my love to comfort you

I have my hands forever nearTo give you warmth and calm your fear

The touches bind without a soundMother and child; forever bound

-- Phillip M. Sparks Oct 08

Waiting with Mother

There are no words that can explain deathFor words have limited meaning, bounded by human interpretation and understanding of things that can only be felt

There is no past to consider at deathFor past is a concept of limited time where life starts and finishes in human sequence in which our spirit is not bound

There is no fear to conquer For fear is only the uncertainty of our future which we ourselves can understand from belief and certainty in God

There is only loveFor love is the universal and infinite source of power; timeless and everlasting, that expresses itself in ways un-measureable by human instruments and transcends our physical life with eternal feelings and memories of one’s goodness on earth-- Phillip M. Sparks, Nov 2008

In death, there is only Love

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence:in your most frail gesture are

things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look will easily unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands -- e.e. cummings

(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands -ee cummings

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

Paris, France

Arizona

Florence, Italy

Seattle

Goldegg, Austria

Lucerne, Switzerland