Michael Walker

I found myself upon a verdant glade
Beneath the trees in a field of clover,
Three leaves of which Three Persons once had made,
To covet the blessed land thrice over,
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There is a desire You cannot despise,
That knows that love is fire, and lust is rust,
And gives birth to the heart's thoughts through the eyes
To quench my soul, knowing I turn to dust.
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All the leaves have fallen from the trees,
And frost has graced all of the ivied eaves.
It seems that even desert wastes will freeze,
As heaters breathe throughout these winter eves.
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I live in the land of fire and wine,
Where the sun and the moon and the stars still shine
On the salt of the earth and the white sea brine
From the dawn of the day till the dusk of time.
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I looked you up on Facebook,
But you could not be found.
No matter where I'd look,
You were not around.
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The Grinches and Scrooges were out in full force,
Cursing the churches until they were hoarse,
When all of a sudden, who should appear,
But the Antichrist riding upon red reindeer!
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Lust comes knocking down my door
While love just runs away.
Lust leaves me wanting more and more,
And lust seems here to stay.
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They pray by day, they pray by night,
They pray in every way.
They pray for every soul in sight,
And grow their garlands gay.
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A friend's deceit exceeds a foe's disdain,
As night betrays the dawning of the day,
And day gives way to what clouds shall ordain,
As we receive just that for which we pray.
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She's wading over wind and wave,
Waiting for her father's grave,
Waiting for a soul to save,
Wading, waiting, for a wave.
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There is a country bordering the sea,
Where deserts meet the gardens' greenery,
And mountains stand for an eternity
Beneath the freedom of an ancient tree.
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Like a phoenix from the ashes,
The scales fall from my eyes,
And I'd bear a thousand lashes
Just to see your spirit rise,
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I am not an automaton,
I am not a robot,
I do not move by a baton
At if, then, and, nor but.
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Upon the Feast of Candlemas,
The world is pure and bright,
When Heaven showers over us
Rays of rainbow light.
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Time to live, time to die,
Time to give, time to fly!
Time to laugh, time to cry,
Time to strive, time to try!
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I flow into you and you to me,
As source to sink at its capacity,
And streams extend from sea to shining sea,
Yet where can we ever find some pity?
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She saw me walking all alone
From grave to lonely grave,
Beside her mother's tombstone
With flowers that she gave,
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Her figure flickered like a fiery flame
Before the torches, when she had been caught
And brought before the Man Who raised the lame,
Who saw her overwrought and most distraught.
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No mistletoe is hung over our door,
Nor is there any ivy on our eaves,
Whilst in our hearth a fire burns no more,
Dormant for so many winters' eves.
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Two people will be working in the field;
Two people will be sleeping in the bed;
The parent then cannot the child shield,
When the Lord comes to the Bride He wed.
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