Monday, January 19, 2015
And when my wandering wanderings end,
When my foot-stepping feet cannot turn back,
The great light has rolled over the orb's bend,
Skies don red robes they soon shed for black.
A woman somewhere, she is my very home,
And the closing of my eyes her eyes will own.
When auroral lights escape their box and beam,
My feet will seek out that very shortest route,
Returning to her, leaving the world of dream,
Renita my Grace, of this there is no doubt.
This the time of blindness and barbarity,
History awash in numberless pixels,
Pallid lights overtake the greater lights,
Our little greeds nourish titanic powers,
That flatten peoples in their gory axles,
Grinding in plastic wheels all our charity.
Disciples at the feet of the angel of death,
Young warriors burn cold as wintry steel,
Neon incense to gods void of one another,
Ascent to powers that numb a bloody resolve,
Machines kill in collateral and do not feel,
The weight of the taking of the last breath.
Like the wheel of Samsara, endless returns,
On this investment in the coffers of war,
Children yet born, groomed for sacrifice,
Tomorrow, Karma will forge new enemies,
The kin of the killed, for honor and for lore,
The fuel for revenge that endlessly burns.
Where the voice crying in this wilderness?
Who the prophet stepping into the crossfire?
Whose the last blood, whose the last body?
Whence the cup of peace, the broken bread?
Of the digging of graves, each of us does tire!
And praying as kneeling in blood we distress.
And a Lion roars o'er the noise of battles,
And a lamb accepts the wounds we inflict,
And a hush blows over the killing fields,
And a longing for the first blossoms.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
The days alone are long,
The nights even longer.
The miles apart are cold,
The silence, even colder.
And yet, grace there is,
She journey back to me.
Eyes probe the clouds,
They part and I will see.
The only one I love above,
All loves that fill my breast,
Renita returns, now my home,
The together where we rest.
A path through a wood on a cool summer's morn,
Roots inweave rock, soil branch and burrow,
Meandering, tributary endless through the loam,
Branchy tendrils to silky strands dig and comb,
In time their own, saplings and trunks harrow,
The dawning scene they suffuse as they adorn,
Our steps obstructed, musing one fallen oak,
Secret roots uprooted, indecently bedraggled,
Like a girl child from her sheets one rainy dawn,
Then opportune mosses and clamoring shrooms,
Spawn o'er the toppled towering timber, crackled,
Metabolism fails, its substance can only stoke,
Striding through rocky stream, where ice cleft
Endless fissures for seed, soil and wind to stuff.
And saplings pry while roots and branch tendril,
Roots worm in micro-caverns, osmose droplets.
Filament branches splinter as elements rebuff,
To triumph the splintered rock, or shrivel bereft,
Each step reveals life: soncy sprite, mouth agape,
Limbs and fibers fan air, water, soil, rock and tree,
Metabolic sponges using and reusing the elements,
Then displays the wonder of this unfolding creation,
Resisting entropy, plumage evolves a divine melody,
With eyes to see, one can see a beauty that does drape,
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Fix their gaze upon my cowing soul,
Just so, the universe gives me a home,
Aside where she rises, where she lies,
In morning rites or in midnight stroll,
Somewhere upon this rolling sphere.
Tenderly her lips crease in pleasure,
And each feature sustains this charity,
Just so, I discover the man she esteems,
And my posture defies gravity and age,
While steps raised with childish levity,
Content to be the one she does treasure.
Bright, one soul burns in singular mercy,
And yet a wideness in that grace exists,
Just so, I the shore this tide moves t'ward,
Lay myself down in healing foaming surf,
Far from touch, yet affection does persist,
In hearts at once, sorrowful and sturdy.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
...In the stirring of the night,
... Part joy, part ethereal fright,
... Wakened awash, in moonlit rite,
... In the stirring of my limbs,
... Part ache, part unconscious whims,
... Brush of skin, summons sacral hymns,
... In the stirring of my heart,
... Part reverie, part piercing dart,
... Sometimes few words are the art,
... In the stirring of the whole,
... Part piety, part dancing on coals,
... Gaily laughing like a new born soul,
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Like any morn, the choirs of first light mustered,
The miracle so plain that but a few tender souls,
Eyes water as they revere the sacrament of dawn.
On this ordinary day, I stand before the powers,
With my best friend, her eyes are flaming coals.
A tremble on my lip; inwardly, outwardly stirred,
Once a stranger that my furtive glance did trespass,
On this day, all of the woes in all of the wide world,
Like any day, where sounds of broken heart howls,
The ache so common, that but a few tender souls,
In pangs of empathy engage the sacrament of pain.
On this ordinary day, I stand in the wind of the Spirit,
With my dearest, her soul – burns like embered coals,
And shoulders the weight, teeth set, cheek to jowl,
Once afar her country, now holding flag unfurled,
On our wedding, all of the joys in all of the heavens,
Like any day where beings lost in beatific visions,
The ecstasy so rare, that but a few chosen seraphs,
Crystal wings hover and cover both face and feet,
Aflame in love’s adoration of the most beautiful lover.
Etched in my soul this sacral time, like photographs,
Recall the communion poets and seers envision,
A gift to this world, the ingredient that leavens,
You are flesh and yet luminous,
Your kiss, a transport numinous,
You are such evidence of grace,
Your eyes, your smile, your face,
My cup, my bread.
My blood, my body,
In our life, all the mundane curses and graces,
Can but enweave into the fabric of our days,
The ordinary so plain, that every breathing soul,
At risk of blending their covenants with contempt.
Deny and decry this travesty of our love and vows.
The purest diamonds are forged from common coal,
Sweet that passion flows through the common ways,
We speak love, love, love, in all our common places.