Open

Harbinger of mercy; grace not my path
That I would live in truth, without measure
Divested of deceit, unveiled in knowing

Harbinger of mercy, steadfastly refrain
That I should know, that which is naked and raw
Pain as pain, joy unbound

Harbinger of mercy, stay fast thy hand
That I might accept, all things untouched
Multiplicity as stolid singularity

Advertisements

Love Is

Love is but a heart held high
Unfolded to soar, with joy to fly
In simple things oft overlooked
Not grand designs to be mistook

Joy is but an open book
Another reads with every look
Open and honest in which you write
Love is but a heart in flight

Paradise Still Lost

 

 

Ashen snowflakes descend,

tears of sorrow for the fallen,

angels weep in sorrow,

gifts of divinity forsaken.

 

Squandered seed spilled in rage,

machine of man, far from Eden,

takes matters into his own hands,

fruit of the tree forbidden.

 

Garden of bounty held in trust,

the jester, trickster of illusion,

sleight deceiver, seller of lies,

the rapist of paradise, unforgiven.

 

Lost in the eyes of the blind,

man devouring man, sorrows coven,

time immemorial, crosses mark,

a barren wasteland, filled with the fallen.

 

 

In Babbling Brooks

babbrook

The flow of time and I but a stone in the current

Upstream I cannot know

Downstream but a memory.

 

Piece by piece I am worn

To the past I become

A shadow of what went before.

 

But I stem the flow, life’s blood

Staunch and strong

Present in this single moment.

 

Stoic