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Lucidity Letter

Lucidity Letter




Jack Gackenbach's Poetry

This page is in memorial to my father, Jack Daniel Gackenbach, who allowed a diversity of thought to exist in a young child at a time when thinking about parapsychology and spirituality, outside the realms of Christianity, was not widely encouraged. He studied and spoke about a wide range of esoteric philosophy but in the end he told me that it is all in Christianity. Thus these poems reflect his final determination before his death of the reality and utility of the Christian perspective while at the same time reflecting his wisdom of the essence of our relationship to the devine.


Our Lord Our Christ

J. D. G.

J. D. Gackenbach


Oh Lord our Christ

Give us this day Thy Mind.

Oh Lord our Christ

Give us this day Thy Spirit.

Oh Lord our Christ


Make us this day instruments of Thy Peace.

Where there is hatred-let us sow love.

Where there is injury--------------pardon.

Where there is doubt---------------faith.

Where there is despair-------------hope.

Where there is darkness-----------light.

Where there is sadness-------------joy.


Oh Divine Master, grant that we

May not so much seek

To be consoled----------as to console.

To be understood--------as to understand.

To be loved---------------as to love.




It is in giving-that we receive from Thee.

It is in pardoning, that we are pardoned by Thee.

It is in dying that we are born to eternal life

                        With Thee.




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J D Gackenbach


Michael, of the Way, this errant spirit

Is here yet again this day to set a foot -a stumbling-

Bumbling foot, but a foot withal upon the way.

As has been most truly said "This day, yea this very day

Is set before thee, good and evil, life and death-

Choose thou."  How we do choose, how we do choose.


What do I possess,

What do I possess?

Though all the riches of this earth are mine,

If I know not Thee,

Then I have naught.


How am I respected,

How am I respected?

Though the whole world hangs in awe

Upon the least word that falls from my mouth,

If I know not Thee,

Then I am naught.


What do I possess,

What do I possess?

Do I possess this earth about me?

Do I possess the heavens above me?

Do I possess my own self?

What do I possess,

For truly all of these

Will fade into the mists,

And if I know not Thee,

Then I will be naught.


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Good morning. It is I, thy wayward servant.

j. d. gackenbach


Good morning.  It is I, thy wayward servant.

Wayward, yes, but thy servant withall.

I thank Thee for this day, for this is the day

Thou hast made, and I shall rejoice and be glad in it.


What would I ask of Thee this day?

Thy mercy-thy mercy upon this miserable sinner,

And upon all of us Thy lost children wandering

In and about this earth.


What would I know this day,

I would know Thee, only Thee.

I would be a bit more aware this day, That Thou art

And I am, and we are.


Thy will be done this day,

Not mine, no not mine but Thine-in me, through me

Thy will be done.  And to whichever of my fellow spirits

I meet this day, I would in whatever way I  might

Be a channel of Thy love and an instrument of Thy peace.


As the words were here given me, "Thou shalt carry

Through the open door, that which Thou doest now prepare."

Succint and to the point.  What a stew I have prepared,

What a stew.  But, give me the strength, for I am weak

I am frail, and My only strength lies in Thee. Give me the strength

So to prepare so that if this day I must surrender this life

And all memory of this being doth cease, that I may carry

Through the open door to Thy other room-what, indeed what?

Something worthy I hope-for I am beyond my

Depth at this point-for---


            I know not------------------what has been.

            Nor do I know--------------what will be.


            Thou knowest--------------all that has been.

            Thou knowest--------------all that will be.


            I place my hand in Thine,

            To wander through the maze of time.


            For------'Tis in Thee, dear

            That I put my trust.


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