Time To Get Lost In Poetry For A Spell Poem by Brett White

Time to get lost in Poetry for
a Spell,
And to find myself in Night
to Dwell,
Alone, but not lost beneath
the Stars...
The Wandering Stars, whose Light
Heals Scars.
And Scars, they heal,
But never Fade...
Like your face, Lost,
In a Fiery Cascade
Of Images forever Seared...
Into my Mind.
And Alone, Under the Stars,
In God I find
Peace. The Peace of May's
Nighttime Showers-
As my Memories, my Soul:
Devours.
But Angels in Heaven,
They never cease to sing.
And Broken Hearts, like Arms,
Heal without a sling.
A Mother's Love over my Soul,
Holds Sway.
And Peace I find in Storms, to
Mozart's Melody:
Requiem. Requiem for lost dreams,
Which joyfully play,
Inside Kindred Hearts, even in Age,
Which cease to Decay,
Defiantly like Beethoven's Raised Fist
To the Heavens,
The second he died. And with
Patience, my Soul Leavens
With the Joy of Joy found
Only in Nature.
A fleeting glimpse of God's Gifts
In a Pasture,
As Life Passes, sometimes
In a Blur -
My favorite moments: my hands
In Junior's Black Fur,
While he Lovingly adores
His Adoring Master.
I swear his bust, I will
Sculpt in Alabaster.
Because Hearts like those, they're
A dying Breed.
And his Soul, unchained,
A Wild Steed,
Who calms Himself, like Alexander
To Bucephalus,
Only in the quietest moments,
Between Heaven,
The Stars,
The Rain,
And us.