Darkness, darkness, of the Night
Together still, as always with fright!
Your numbness cold lay near my side
As the serpent still, waits to strike.
Soreness harvest’s Midnight’s fear –
Desolate’s chill, so close to God,
So far, so near.
Tempting lusts, the fevers of the dawn, where
Throbbing dust to earthly fill, till
Mine pulsing stare glances privately
Towards the entrance of death -
Within her feathery depths –
Thine soul of stars as pearls of light,
Behold, the dawn of Love, where
Fear has crept.
The dawn of darkness, slowly
In antiquated time, the brilliance of Light –
Forty years of nothingness, still
Moon of despair sheds her lunar glow,
Darkness to darkness, her rhythmic flow –
Blindness of souls to gloom of days,
Visions unfold- the joy awaits.
Oh when dost thou find me, O Mother of Love?
When dost thou send me, in flight above?
Obscurity’s morning, the Light, the dove?
The depths of the dark horse of opaque and black,
Bleeding soul, sequesters itself,
Amongst the thorns of chant –
Serendipity’s cunning beast,
Shadows of doubt ruminate still
Another day, I exclaim, “I can’t! ” But will.
The courage once held by faith alone,
Slips quietly off into depths unknown,
Strangers kneel in protection of thee.
Some laugh, some cry, unhesitently -
Prayers are quiet, though lifted on High,
Golden light appears, not once but twice.
The siftless night, O darkened Night;
The heart still with ardor of zeal,
O God of Love thine soul’s appeal,
To comfort thee in all thy pain,
Articulates in time, wisdom’s knowledge gained.
But time claims it’s antipathy of self, where
Brazen omens from the sky, courage hidden, though courage remains.
Windstorm’s attack, a frenzied trouble invades,
Though spirit’s wind avails the estate’s benefaction,
Mine soul delights, determined, though perplexed –
To find oneself in word and prose,
Mother bedazzles I, a gift, a spiritual rose.
The demon’s gift for the rape of my soul,
Rainfall’s shower, thundersquall’s hearth,
From deep within; the furthest depths, desecrated,
Nature’s eternal laws, wisdom silent,
Ancient plunder of a fraudulent soul –
Poor ravishment, the masses toll.
These thoughts of bliss,
Now lost to hordes of savage beasts,
Possession of souls, now wasted, lay spoiled,
As if no care were even there,
This nature’s best, monastic’s breath –
The hidden monk now comes to rest.
“Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead,
And Christ will shine on you.”
Ephesians 5: 14 NIV
Awaken O soul, Be still, and know
Your Master has called – Quiet shares peace.
The rain comes, brought forth at your command,
Pure drops of a crystal haze – Truth shares hope.
Be strong O soul, confront thy windy storm – Courage.
Your rest falls silent upon this loving Grace.
Midnight’s Rose of Sharon upon the desert’s dust,
And sunshine illuminates Autumn’s soon,
Gives birth to nature’s lovely,
Vermillion glow of sunset’s moon.
As a legendary Rose and mystic round,
Sweet scent of Mother’s misty ground,
Her nebulous veil, and smoky gray,
Whisper, mysteries revealed,
Contemplative we pray.
New dawn’s aurora in brilliant prime,
With rainbow’s spring, and eastward tide,
Light, yet lofty, visions in air,
Whisper loving feelings by Nature’s stare.
Beads of favor, simple from wood –
True character of heaven, where dark angels once stood,
As pure prayers draw near, concealed by the heart;
Intimate compassions may breathe,
Mother’s love for me, and beginnings new start.
The desert sands are but now a distant storm,
A rush of lofty breeze, little sparrows delight,
With the rock and sway of a mighty Oak,
Content, to softened whispers, and
Gentle lunar’s fragrant sigh,
Makes wild and passionate love to a silken flow
Of angel’s dew, and mists of spray conceived on high.
As now the sapphire blue and misty moon,
Shares Love’s delight by midnight’s soon.
Dear frost cold of depths untold, and
Darkening nights of a crowning hue,
If only but passions, as Light shines through –
To rest eternal, and friendships soon.
My soul waited O God, for the clearing
Of the gray, misty dawn – and,
The sweet and delicate songs of the balmy air,
As the breath of a new day has arrived, and
Shares within a spirit’s embrace; where nature’s stare
Delights upon this sacred place.
Dearest Mother of the moon, you summon me –
Mid afternoon, contemplative sunshine echoes
Amongst the scattered leaves and haven of trees,
Chants her loving and fragrant, summer-time breeze, whereas;
I thirst O God, impassioned for your servant’s homeland sand
Beneath my feet, consummated by the fragrant scent of
Ocean’s balmy air – as Olive trees and figs of palm
Dance upon a desert’s spicy wind, lead me O Spirit of Love,
Upon my embryonic end, beneath a Lily of Mother’s please.
In search of truth I blindly discover,
The state of our souls –
We truly can not hide,
One’s fiery response – counter reflects, and
Behold – Embraced in the eye!
Through my impetuous attempts to be free,
I am enlightened, the nature of man, at times
Refuses to see.
Beguiled and betrayed,
Confusion and dazed; belittle no more –
Come! Let us be saved.
The redemptive challenge within us remains,
Atonement of wrong purifies stains,
To be worthy again and defend what is true,
Illustrious Eminence –
My fellow man – is that you?
For I implore –
Do not lay besiegement upon this face,
Rest easy, make peace,
Provide other’s with their space.
The engendering nature of our soul’s does consist,
Intellect, free will, yet, evil resist?
The eternal Laws of Nature
Reside from within,
A proven manifestation – Love never ends.
Conducively, presumptuously – the choices we make,
Why must we all take?
A severe deepening of melancholic distressfulness,
Paralyzed with fear,
A half century’s embrace
As other’s feverishly kill…the human spirit, a soul –
Its crimson death is thrown into the eternal fires
Of bloodthirsty demons; and abuse of authority, betrayal –
Are they not just words?
Or a twisted state of character as savage delusions imbedded within
This gifted heart of benevolence, fears…and fears yet even more.
Where hope has been eradicated by an offensively belligerent voice –
Oh! The invisible pain.
When will death release me
From this antiquated suffrage?
Yet, out of the ashes of a shattered past – defeated, shamelessly;
Rises a tiny glimmer of hope, scarred…by the inebriated breath of failure –
The wooden prayers bound by a single strand of hopeful dreams,
Where hidden truths are revealed,
From the painful labor of a freedom not known,
Where the punishment of temperance exceeds its worthy cause…
Become a journey of forty years filled –
With a lifetime of bitter anguish and torment,
Cursed and intensified by the degenerative condition they call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!
Paranoia pillages its narcissistic way through my door
As the turbulent anxiety and disillusionment
Kneads its tempestuous path through
A frozen and empty void of desolation.
The darkened lair of an innocent soul so guilefully deceived
From too many violated moments of malevolence,
Where – is Francis, Augustine, and Teresa?
Where is Christ in my time of need?
May he be summoned from the depths of contemplative prayers
Reflections of a shadowed past,
So tragic as if to say life can be no more?
Can he be found within the flashes of light of my memories?
Of men so brutal as to forget the law of brotherhood?
Or does the circle of faith come safely home with five decades of self discovery?
The wood and the stone go hand in hand,
As the residue of gunpowder looms in the smoky air…
The torment is over – forty years later.
I have endured another night of frightened thoughts.
Wicked visions of fraudulent illusions,
Held captive by the danger of governance and supremacy!
Illusive demons hold captive of this wounded warrior, and
Haunts this mind of gifted sanity,
And are gratefully arranged to bring my mind to a pen of peace,
As the curative drugs flow soothingly
Through the hallowed course of sacred veins.
So…now I draw, from a contemplative moment….
I embrace silence as the band of angels draw
From her hidden depths of the eternal seeds of Wisdom,
She submits freely and conforms thy galvanized soul; the soul –
Who listens, to the authoritative voice of her divine Master;
Embracing the perfect surrender of an ancient hope – as if
The soul’s night-tide’s fire fight, pointillizing the darkness –
Through the frustrations of suffrage years gone by, a wasted life
That could have been, with other impressionistic souls;
Within the cool mirrored glassy shoals of a clear blue mountain lake,
I think, also…of my childhood of innocence, and
Midnight’s soul’s darkness –
Years of just not knowing, of which we know only as the rhythms of change;
As seasons pass with each soft lunar’s glow,
Sifts quietly through a cloudless night, and, of rolling thunder;
There – they speak!
Here – we listen!
Be aware – Always!
For He Whom always searches
Our eternally thirsting dreams-
May today open only but one window!
As she (soul) rides Elijah’s chariot of fire in perfect delight –
She has heard her name being called.