New night begun.
A walk of shadows,
crossing a mind of memory,
beneath a daytime sun,
under a full moonlit sky.
You are my heart.
You are my soul.
Without you, I die,
a tumbleweed, an endless roll.
The hills they call,
for the footsteps of the land,
to once again, once again,
walk them in unison.
This lonely verse, an extension,
from what whispers, speaks inside.
The words, a piece by invention,
of what the heart cannot hide.
Like dancers swaying with the breeze,
such is the life of standing trees.
Its woodlands patchwork countryside,
Everything is growing high now,
with hints of Autumn everywhere.
By wooden, weathered picnic table,
I touch the light,
knowing it is of all being.
I touch shadow,
knowing it is only seen
To Miss, the words of Love,
to Miss the Hope of the next Day.
That face, smile, lips and eyes,
the Feeling of Touch and its Way.
Not, to walk through life as another,
to walk through life, more, with the Heart.
Many steps taken by many travelers,
from one beginning, from one start.
To join, with the beyond.
to the Inner Core that ties,
the Inner Core that bonds.
One, with the Eternal Ripple,
to the fabric of worth.
in purpose, with earth.
Narrow is the way to righteousness.
Broad the way to destruction.
Both paths they have been lived,
the innocence and its seduction.
Wisdom, is of the quenching rain,
in awe the keen heart doth meld to.
Wise is the one that sees, who sees
the flower, embrace the morning dew.
Goodbye echo, the time has come
your words are fading away.
Barely can we hear you now,
no longer do you choose to stay.
Somewhere to go.
Through the many storms of life,
the rains, ice and snow.
With each step, with each tear,
Many Whispers of the Night.
Many Days of Living Words.
Much Breath needing to be fathomed,
for destination the Heart moves towards.
Closer to earth, closer to heart.
Steeples and church bells.
Birds flying by nest in nearby trees,
perhaps closer to where angels may dwell.
Beneath the surface, love thou hast gone
as a sinking stone, to the bottom, below.
Worthless words, to be but a folly of time,
sentiment, drawn down with the undertow.
Pink-Edged Clouds, Sunset Sun
New night begun.
Fortell, what new wonders,
have come to pass?
A new child born,
a new blade of grass?
What things anew,
will there be?
New wonders fathomed,
from the life-giving sea?
Hued pink-edged clouds.
Low sunset sun.
Bedim thy light.
Still, you are not done.
Because, for from thy union,
'tis lucid, sure as dawn will be,
that Life blossoms forth,
from your simplicity...