reverence for your surroundings is very important. you have to respect the things and people around you to gain the respect you want as well. reverence for nature is especially important because with out it were doomed.
tori
Reverend? Reeeveerend…? Hello? Where are you? Please I’m trapped! The portal is too strong…
Scmidaldhaven Guptra III
Jack looked up at her. She was ridiculously tall, like a pretty giraffe. All giraffes are pretty, like gangly schoolgirls with too much make-up.
When I go into a book store it’s like a religious experience. All the tomes in front of me seem to be holy pieces. Their spines full of ideas and whispers and prayers and comfort and fear and forgiveness. It is with reverence that I touch the books.
Beth
I detest vicars. They are costumed cassocked clowns, they wonder through their communities expecting smiles and devotion from their flock. They are wasters – pale, spindly men with hook noses and evil intentions.
nick cheek
he had none left after years of abuse. Still, walking here beneath giant redwoods, something inside shifted, he felt a calm absent since he was ten years old.
judyb
Casie bowed her head and prayed he’d see her in the crowd. With her pen clutched tightly in hand and her poster of him held out, she opened her mouth to scream his name. But then his eyes were on her, those dreamy blues she’d stared into every night. He said “Hello.” And she gasped.
Reverence is the word that i have no idea what it means. It’s a pretty word and i feel fancy saying it. So over all it’s a cool word.
Nikolas
“It’s like Jesus on a stick,” she said in the crowded art studio. Everyone looked up from their oil pastels and acrylic paints and stared.
“Probably not polite,” I whispered to her, though I was giggling quietly. “Too many Christians.”
She nodded wisely, but flashed me a silent smile.
Kimberly
There’s a spiritual aspect to being a grand parent. It’s a responsibility that includes joy and reverence for the grandchild in question. It’ s a quickening of the pulse and a dramatic heartbeat to the tempo of the multitude of butterflies in your stomach. At first sight of said Holy child, there is a wide unabashed grin that wi;ll not leave the face of said grand parent until child is no longer in sight. There is peace and lauhgter, time for play no matter what else needs to be done. Time stands still for that set of events. Grandparents and grandchildren are a special relationship, not to be taken for granted. It is to be cherished, revered, marveled at and enjoyed. They grow up as fast as your kids did but hopefully, this time around you take the time to savour the moments more. To drink more deeply of the essence of these beautiful children you get to share. You notice more of the things that bring wonder to their little minds, you hear more clearly the deep belly laughs and really taste the pretend tea and plastic chicken.
Patt
he sat and listened,
at full attention, like a soldier,
as she talked.
it wasn’t lust.
it was respect.
it was awe and wonder,
it was a reverence for
her perspective.
There are many people who are reverent but I remember more the ones who are irreverent. Sometimes their irreverence is hurtful and sometimes funny enough to stand out in time. I enjoy the solemness of reverence and the irony of irreverence.
Megan
yeah, whatever. big deal. who died and made him king? what is the big deal. feh! i have seen better, and that was with a bunch of goofballs i used to work with. anyhoo,
Hisdeath would be a reference to the young man for his entire life. He had witnessed his father being brutally murdered when he was young and was left to fend for himself. Now, he would remember that night for the rest of his life and go out doing the same thing to all of the bad men in the world to make up for never trying to help his father.
Her eyes were big as they took in the life surrounding her. They shifted side to side, observing, dreaming, seeing. The sounds were lost to her, but she felt the world. It was time, and she was ready.
To rever
To hold one in esteem
High in a pedestal
Where they are no longer able to feel
The pulse of the earth below their feet
To have connection to the energy of nature
Should we rever such disconnection
That their heads tilt ever forward up towards the sky
And yet never now down gracious at the ground below
To say thank you and
Understand where we come from
Lauren
prioritizing moments
spin and turning worlds
within a true grasp
anonymous and noble motives
connecting glimpse
and a release of intention
Engel
it was my joy, my place, my soul/ I was thinkikng boom boom boom! and then silence. nothingness. emptyness of a kind that i have
asaf
As I walked into the Notre Dame Cathedral I had such a feeling of reverence that I began to cry. It was as if I had stepped back into time and I couldn’t begin to explain the feeling of awe I felt.
Reverence is what God desire from us. It is acknowledging that our first duty is to praise and honor him, who sent his only son to die for us. in order that we could have eternal life, once we believe and accept him as our lord and saviour.
Sitting in the red velvet pew I looked up at the giant cross right above the stage where the pastor preached the good word at his podium. The cross towered watchfully over the empty sanctuary and I felt so small. So tiny. It wasn’t the intimidating crucifix that made me feel this way, however. I wasn’t even sure of what I was feeling or why but I knew it was definitely something bigger than me. What was the word? Fear? No…
Staring at the crucifix made me feel uneasy so I looked else where.
It didn’t take long for my wondering gaze to find a piano sitting alone on the stage with it’s seat pulled out as if someone just got up and left it. It looked so lonely, so abandoned. My heart swelled with pity, “How could someone just leave it there? How could anyone turn away such a beautiful instrument and let dust clog up it’s magical keys?” I felt the urge to march right up to the stage and sit at that polished black piano and play it for myself but something kept me seated. How could I ever think that my grubby, tainted fingers were worth the piano’s tune? It wasn’t a feeling of insecurity or shame. Maybe it was unworthiness?
Thinking about the wonderful music that piano could make and has made for made worshipers, I realized how quiet it was in that empty room. I couldn’t say that the silence was eerie or unsettling. however. Even though there was no one else around and I could have said whatever I wanted how ever loud I wanted, I didn’t dare say a word. What was it? Was it respect for the sanctity of silence? Could it have been the sense of security and assurance that blanketed me in that silence? No, it was neither of these. Sitting there, pondering the beauty of this sanctuary and all of it’s sacred corners, I realized what it was. I was humbled to the truth of what filled my heart-… what filled my soul.
Entropy, thats one word so blissfully ignored by many as scientific nuisance. Its that one word that is associated with complex thermodynamics equations and they unwillingly deny to decipher its true meaning. Entropy is one word that for many years, Plato has tried to find to sum up life’s true meaning. Wars have been fought over this one word for it is the one word that true defines life. Its intelligently hide its true meaning behind the labyrinth of complex equations and genius connotation. Its genuine meaning is therefore only simple to those who search deep and realise that, this one word is the reason they wake up every morning and make their beds, wash their decaying bodies, vacuum their dust mites infested carpets. This word is the reason we re-paint our houses, take our shoes to the cobbler, and even simple gestures such as repositioning a tie.
She had the deepest respect for that tree in the wood. She only had the fainest idea of everyhting it had seen and been through. Sometime she would get a flash of a mo
Peter Kaiser
Honestly, I have no idea what this word means. I apologize. Please give pass me a dictionary ASAP. Thank you! :3
eselcee
It is one small glass box with twelve seats inside of it overlooking a football pitch. Unremarkable when empty, but each Saturday when those seats are filed it is the one place in Sydney where you can go to grease any palm or move any mountain. Those hard plastic benches amidst boozed up, jeering football hooligans are not what they appear to be; they are the ultimate seats of power and influence hidden among common man. And the occupants? They come to rival each others conquests and pay reverence to nothing but their own gargantuan egos.
Reverence is the epitome of my parents trying to teach me as a child. They said, “Tell us exactly what you need to be so silly for?” “Why are you being so loud right now?” “La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la do dee do doo da.”
She swaggered into the church like it was her name over the door, hips clad in sinfully tight black denim, the flashy red of her leather trench slapping lightly against the back of her knees with every step. With absolutely no due reverence she strode up to the altar, dropping her Ray-Bans into her front jacket pocket so cool, gun-mental blue eyes could scan the darkened interior.
I look up
I’m half my height
Down on bruised knees
He’s high above
A god to revere
Shouldn’t make me feel
Broken in half
reverence for your surroundings is very important. you have to respect the things and people around you to gain the respect you want as well. reverence for nature is especially important because with out it were doomed.
Reverend? Reeeveerend…? Hello? Where are you? Please I’m trapped! The portal is too strong…
Jack looked up at her. She was ridiculously tall, like a pretty giraffe. All giraffes are pretty, like gangly schoolgirls with too much make-up.
When I go into a book store it’s like a religious experience. All the tomes in front of me seem to be holy pieces. Their spines full of ideas and whispers and prayers and comfort and fear and forgiveness. It is with reverence that I touch the books.
I detest vicars. They are costumed cassocked clowns, they wonder through their communities expecting smiles and devotion from their flock. They are wasters – pale, spindly men with hook noses and evil intentions.
he had none left after years of abuse. Still, walking here beneath giant redwoods, something inside shifted, he felt a calm absent since he was ten years old.
Casie bowed her head and prayed he’d see her in the crowd. With her pen clutched tightly in hand and her poster of him held out, she opened her mouth to scream his name. But then his eyes were on her, those dreamy blues she’d stared into every night. He said “Hello.” And she gasped.
Reverence is the word that i have no idea what it means. It’s a pretty word and i feel fancy saying it. So over all it’s a cool word.
“It’s like Jesus on a stick,” she said in the crowded art studio. Everyone looked up from their oil pastels and acrylic paints and stared.
“Probably not polite,” I whispered to her, though I was giggling quietly. “Too many Christians.”
She nodded wisely, but flashed me a silent smile.
There’s a spiritual aspect to being a grand parent. It’s a responsibility that includes joy and reverence for the grandchild in question. It’ s a quickening of the pulse and a dramatic heartbeat to the tempo of the multitude of butterflies in your stomach. At first sight of said Holy child, there is a wide unabashed grin that wi;ll not leave the face of said grand parent until child is no longer in sight. There is peace and lauhgter, time for play no matter what else needs to be done. Time stands still for that set of events. Grandparents and grandchildren are a special relationship, not to be taken for granted. It is to be cherished, revered, marveled at and enjoyed. They grow up as fast as your kids did but hopefully, this time around you take the time to savour the moments more. To drink more deeply of the essence of these beautiful children you get to share. You notice more of the things that bring wonder to their little minds, you hear more clearly the deep belly laughs and really taste the pretend tea and plastic chicken.
he sat and listened,
at full attention, like a soldier,
as she talked.
it wasn’t lust.
it was respect.
it was awe and wonder,
it was a reverence for
her perspective.
There are many people who are reverent but I remember more the ones who are irreverent. Sometimes their irreverence is hurtful and sometimes funny enough to stand out in time. I enjoy the solemness of reverence and the irony of irreverence.
yeah, whatever. big deal. who died and made him king? what is the big deal. feh! i have seen better, and that was with a bunch of goofballs i used to work with. anyhoo,
Hisdeath would be a reference to the young man for his entire life. He had witnessed his father being brutally murdered when he was young and was left to fend for himself. Now, he would remember that night for the rest of his life and go out doing the same thing to all of the bad men in the world to make up for never trying to help his father.
Her eyes were big as they took in the life surrounding her. They shifted side to side, observing, dreaming, seeing. The sounds were lost to her, but she felt the world. It was time, and she was ready.
To rever
To hold one in esteem
High in a pedestal
Where they are no longer able to feel
The pulse of the earth below their feet
To have connection to the energy of nature
Should we rever such disconnection
That their heads tilt ever forward up towards the sky
And yet never now down gracious at the ground below
To say thank you and
Understand where we come from
prioritizing moments
spin and turning worlds
within a true grasp
anonymous and noble motives
connecting glimpse
and a release of intention
it was my joy, my place, my soul/ I was thinkikng boom boom boom! and then silence. nothingness. emptyness of a kind that i have
As I walked into the Notre Dame Cathedral I had such a feeling of reverence that I began to cry. It was as if I had stepped back into time and I couldn’t begin to explain the feeling of awe I felt.
God is great!
Reverence is what God desire from us. It is acknowledging that our first duty is to praise and honor him, who sent his only son to die for us. in order that we could have eternal life, once we believe and accept him as our lord and saviour.
He was a wonderful person. A pillar of the community and held in great reverence.
Sitting in the red velvet pew I looked up at the giant cross right above the stage where the pastor preached the good word at his podium. The cross towered watchfully over the empty sanctuary and I felt so small. So tiny. It wasn’t the intimidating crucifix that made me feel this way, however. I wasn’t even sure of what I was feeling or why but I knew it was definitely something bigger than me. What was the word? Fear? No…
Staring at the crucifix made me feel uneasy so I looked else where.
It didn’t take long for my wondering gaze to find a piano sitting alone on the stage with it’s seat pulled out as if someone just got up and left it. It looked so lonely, so abandoned. My heart swelled with pity, “How could someone just leave it there? How could anyone turn away such a beautiful instrument and let dust clog up it’s magical keys?” I felt the urge to march right up to the stage and sit at that polished black piano and play it for myself but something kept me seated. How could I ever think that my grubby, tainted fingers were worth the piano’s tune? It wasn’t a feeling of insecurity or shame. Maybe it was unworthiness?
Thinking about the wonderful music that piano could make and has made for made worshipers, I realized how quiet it was in that empty room. I couldn’t say that the silence was eerie or unsettling. however. Even though there was no one else around and I could have said whatever I wanted how ever loud I wanted, I didn’t dare say a word. What was it? Was it respect for the sanctity of silence? Could it have been the sense of security and assurance that blanketed me in that silence? No, it was neither of these. Sitting there, pondering the beauty of this sanctuary and all of it’s sacred corners, I realized what it was. I was humbled to the truth of what filled my heart-… what filled my soul.
It was reverence.
A dream of mine.
To be great at what I do, and for the people who are worth it.
Entropy, thats one word so blissfully ignored by many as scientific nuisance. Its that one word that is associated with complex thermodynamics equations and they unwillingly deny to decipher its true meaning. Entropy is one word that for many years, Plato has tried to find to sum up life’s true meaning. Wars have been fought over this one word for it is the one word that true defines life. Its intelligently hide its true meaning behind the labyrinth of complex equations and genius connotation. Its genuine meaning is therefore only simple to those who search deep and realise that, this one word is the reason they wake up every morning and make their beds, wash their decaying bodies, vacuum their dust mites infested carpets. This word is the reason we re-paint our houses, take our shoes to the cobbler, and even simple gestures such as repositioning a tie.
kj
She had the deepest respect for that tree in the wood. She only had the fainest idea of everyhting it had seen and been through. Sometime she would get a flash of a mo
Honestly, I have no idea what this word means. I apologize. Please give pass me a dictionary ASAP. Thank you! :3
It is one small glass box with twelve seats inside of it overlooking a football pitch. Unremarkable when empty, but each Saturday when those seats are filed it is the one place in Sydney where you can go to grease any palm or move any mountain. Those hard plastic benches amidst boozed up, jeering football hooligans are not what they appear to be; they are the ultimate seats of power and influence hidden among common man. And the occupants? They come to rival each others conquests and pay reverence to nothing but their own gargantuan egos.
Reverence is the epitome of my parents trying to teach me as a child. They said, “Tell us exactly what you need to be so silly for?” “Why are you being so loud right now?” “La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la do dee do doo da.”
She swaggered into the church like it was her name over the door, hips clad in sinfully tight black denim, the flashy red of her leather trench slapping lightly against the back of her knees with every step. With absolutely no due reverence she strode up to the altar, dropping her Ray-Bans into her front jacket pocket so cool, gun-mental blue eyes could scan the darkened interior.
‘your reverence isn’t given lightly, Your Reverence.’ She spoke quietly and he stood up a little taller.
‘Very true’ he said benevolently. ‘But we must be humble. We are all servants.’
‘Not everyone, and your reverence isn’t mine,’ she said.
But he had already walked away.