Goodbye

Sometimes the presence,
In quiet voice,
In mystic song,
Will gently convince,
A gentle breeze,
A tranquil ghost,
The sweetness of incense.

Sometimes the numinous,
Like thunderclap,
Like avalanche,
Will openly discuss,
A blazing light,
The shaking soil,
The truth can be as thus.

Sometimes there is a Type,
That shatters glass,
That peels the skin,
And such will take a swipe,
Not suffering fools,
No nods to lies,
But every tear will wipe.

Sometimes there is a man,
That breaks the mold,
That loves his Lord,
And makes a loyal stand,
With healing words,
With stinging salve,
Yet he seeks to understand.

Sometimes there is a friend,
A soul-mate to one,
A father to two,
The life that he did spend,
Painfully brief,
Fully poured out,
A parable that will portend,

The way,
The truth,
The life,
The love,
The greatest of these is love.

Goodbye Bob,
Until.

Gone

Another breath dissipates,
Mere cloud wisped by wind,
But for the piece of soul,
And the taste of chagrin,
Respired to the universe,
As dust blows from skin,
And is lost.

Another trace of time,
Like the river slips away,
And yet is ever present,
A ghost having its sway.
But for the loss of self,
Through story and decay,
'Tis the cost.

And what has moved to tears,
From neural paths will fade,
The stuff, the warp and weave,
Which in sacred space — afraid,
That what fires time and space,
Being too terrible to evade,
It will accost.

All these fragments of self,
The stuff that makes us we,
Like tears within a bottle,
Are held back from the sea,
Retold, is the narration,
As love wills to foresee,
The utmost.

Homage,
Tremble,
Peace.

Open

And the burning smolders ashen,
The flame now hisses peaceful,
What of dust was once begotten,
Returns to dusty gray and dull,
Finale.

As life flames to exhaustion,
The sprint to a walk subsides,
Infected with a sharper caution,
Step to step in tepid strides,
Remain.

As a love that once burned ardent,
In blinded eyes of a beloved,
Now smolder in a tired lament,
Soul mate from soul mate devolve,
Mourning.

Bonds,
Like cords,
Like life,
Like love,
Like blood,
Fail.

Spring Prayer

Amid my kin of nymphs and trees,
Skin as bark, and limbs unfold,
And somehow weakened at the knees,
The light reveals the rain, like gold,
Anoints, as dew fills every crease,
Breath releases and then enfolds,
A prayer.

Woodlanders will groan and waken,
In the prolonging of the rays,
Winter's pace plods, then slackens,
Beast and bird clamor, as the days,
Of green and bud quickly betaken,
In the dance and liturgy and praise,
And prayer.

Then one soul in lamentation,
Lives and lets life have its sway,
And pining for the restoration,
In the slow dusking of the day,
Scents of spring bring communion,
And night a presence that will allay,
This payer.

Days

In days naive and sweet,
I loved one loving me,
Palm to palm, mouth to lips,
Bone of bone, I needed she.
In light in crystal chancel.

In days of bittersweet,
A sour infused the wine,
Eyes fall below the gaze,
Still fixed in bonded pine.
Content within the cell.

In days of dearth in sweet,
With cubs amid the trees,
Palms to fists and eyes to lids,
And begging on the knees,
For love's sweeter morsel.

In days without the sweet,
Slowly wading into dark,
And folding of the limbs
The emblem and hallmark,
Of the crumbling castle.

Days to nights,
Sun to moon,
Lauds to wails,
Shudder,
Tremble,
Pause.