The early quiet welcomes in
The traveler, the wanderer,
The listener, the ponderer
Of all that was or might have been.
For when the daily struggles cease,
Perspective comes, and lends its light
To those who, giving up the fight,
Find loss and victory in peace
= = = = = | = = = = =
The light is gone, and nothing’s right,
Another wastrel of a day —
Come join me, and we’ll get away,
And take the magic window into night
For dreams of childhood remain;
Of distant lands and shining seas —
We’ll go and do whate’er we please,
Away from all these cold eyes’ sharp disdain
The world of faith and not of sight
Is beckoning for us to join;
So come, let us some joy purloin,
And take the magic window
Into night
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Photo credit : ID 38853794 © Empipe | Dreamstime.com
I see the sails out on the bay
The wind, it blows them where it will
And if I could, I’d be there still
Instead of where I am today
Down here, amid the fountain grass
I know the fire risk is great;
But find a thing to celebrate
In knowing: fire, too, shall pass
The conflagration of our ties,
Ablaze in desperation’s haze;
Till promise comes with rainy days
To cool us off and make us wise
Her back hurts, so she cannot rest,
And work is suffering these days;
She’s daily there, within a haze
Travailing, tired and depressed
But when she can, she breaks away;
She sits alone somewhere offsite,
And for one moment, doesn’t fight
The constant battle that’s today
Along the shore the cat-tails wait With eagerness the winds to touch Near sands not thinking overmuch And waves with cause to celebrate I hear them calling you and me In whispers softer than the dawn For love and time may soon be gone And we were made for wind and sea
Stark and bland and beige and bare:
The rule applies, without, within —
That you can let the light flood in,
And still nobody quite be there
The nights are hard, then comes the day,
For truth is found where it’s not sought:
That love’s a thing that can’t be bought,
Or had much any other way
The same old windows, same old door,
But it is an ironic scene —
That one could be, in quarantine,
No lonelier than before
Online, I sold my emptiness,
But in return, I nothing got:
The right price for a worth of naught
Delivered to the wrong address
The sea, a glowing mystic ball
Incredible the sound the sight —
It’s everything; but to my right
The most amazing view of all
