Waiting to offer comfort

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The light is soft and shadowed.
A row of ancient beach huts stand
Still and gloomy
Against the black sand.
Memories of naked saints and blue kaftans
wash ashore…

This is where bottled prayers crash
against green slippery cliffs
Spilling up over edges and onto roads
Where there used to be paths…

Amazing, isn’t it?
what the tide brings up?
Sometimes though, there are red flowers,
floating in the water, just off the road,
waiting to offer comfort…

Love’s Alchemy

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Sometimes, a love’s painful birth,
From a weary soul’s victory,
Over a life, whose shadows fling,
To murder a loss that wounds and stings.
Though, they may yield with the taste of tears,
A sorrow tucked
Behind the thistles of layered years.
For this,
He has forgone the shrine of youth,
to chisel grace
From the toiling labor
Of mining truth.
For only the wild will dare
To tempt the cruel decay
Of man’s cathedral mind,
And lift upon his beaten back
The sweet legacy of resurrection divine
And bend his worn-out quivering knee
To be knighted by Love’s sacramental
Alchemy.

Let us haste into the sunless days

VLUU L100, M100  / Samsung L100, M100

Let us haste into that dark and sunless day
Where hope clings on to the dreams of yesterday
Where the parting sun is voiceless and the twilight,
like the morning, is cold, and the lightness
Of summer evenings has grown tired and solemn and old
I say, let us roam along the night-rimmed fields
Where the wind has blown joy astray
And love the dying of the youthful days
And the shadows ’round that beloved’s face
Will yield and skulk away

An Ode to the Innocence of Childhood

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Can you hear the music
Of old-time dreams and days
When you were but a little child
And the world was games and play

When the joyous fields
And soft warm nights
Were young and free from stain
And the woods were full of secrets
And fairies danced in the lanes

When sunsets were singing lullabies
For goldenrods and cloves
And warmly folded you into
The loving arms of home

Can you hear the music
Of old-time dreams and days
When God was a wayside flower
An afternoon in May
Or a little lamb at pasture
Or the sunrise above the bay
And the sweetness of your laughter
Was better than any prayer

Can you hear the music
Of old-time dreams and play
When you were but a little child
And the world was games and play