When clouds seem saddles to ride skies
ignite life and burn bare the sane.
We're strangely seared where heaven lies,
At one time my father and I
would rise just before dawn
in dream-dark woods,
When the infant Christ lay in the manger,
in the coarse stable upon matted straw,
kinder animals heeded the stranger-
the godly baby-and stood in great awe.
At the evening sky-cosmic mind in thought
seemed starlight written upon deep darkness-
We stopped, and gazing upward, were dream-taught
of Orion, light-quivered in starkness
His beacon searched for honest men
and found his own pure hell.
Thieves lit out with his only lamp.
Enlightment seems well.
I'll forever love her
(and who could never love her?)
as the day seems winter's
but with summer in its midst.
To describe in chapters our life's fables,
pen pauses pending, our white pages glare;
wordless lines cancel Contents in Tables.
contest content-ment, if you won't write there.
Say that seas were just our dreaming
and love a ship to find,
you'd soon perceive my sea of dreams
where you're moored in my mind.
Half to sleep and perhaps I'll die,
but might I stay in those most dear
like beer downed? No, more self's worn sigh?
Half to sleep-and perhaps Ill die...