Beginnings and endings, a prompt, and today during my quiet time, early in the morning, an inspiration. I came to realize all mysteries have a common denominator. I am speaking of praying the rosary. But first, my first attempt at a Golden Shovel form combined with Tanka form.
The poem selected author and title: The Rosary.
by Robert Cameron Rogers —> https://search.yahoo.com/search?fr=mcafee&type=E211US1079G91398&p=Robert+Cameron+Rogers also, you can read his poem by scrolling down to the bottom of this post.
My Golden Shovel poem is composed also in Tanka form; the bolded words are from my selected poem (seen at bottom of this post) My Poem Titled “Beginning to End”
Bless this sacred string
Holy rosary of pearls
Held by links to count
The pictures of memories
Is but a prayer to learn
An exciting point of inspiration; while meditating on each group of mysteries, a common theme is hidden. Take the example of our prompt at dVerse is of beginnings and endings.
Ponder the last five decades of fifteen Mysteries of the original rosary blessed Mother gave St Dominic. There we see the number three along with endings and beginnings.
The Finding of the Child Jesus being lost three days also representing the ending of His childhood: beginning His adult life and purpose, “And He said to them: How is it that you sought me? did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?” Luke 2:49
The Crucifixion of Jesus, His words, “It is finished” an ending! It was the beginning of opening the gates of Heaven. On the third day, He will rise again.
Next, we meditate on The Coronation of Mary. Her entrance into Heaven ended her earthly life but began her reign as the Holy Trinity crowns her Queen. Three, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
“And there are three who give testimony in Heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost. And these three are one.” 1 John 5:7
“And there are three that give testimony on earth: the spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three are one.” 1 John 5:8
The hours I spent with thee, dear heart,
Are as a string of pearls to me;
I count them over, every one apart,
Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer
To still a heart in absence wrung;
I tell each bead unto the end — and there
A cross is hung.
Oh, memories that bless — and burn!
Oh, barren gain — and bitter loss!
I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn
To kiss the cross,
To kiss the cross.