I would defend your honor, if I could:
There’s now a pressure on my eyes,
That makes my vision blurry;
And send benighted temper, with its hood,
As lately, I would realize,
It’s dangerous to scurry –
To where it never bothers you again –
As constantly, mortality
Surrounds, and I’m aware:
And be a guard for you among all men
The unimpaired finality
That’s always looming there
what is your truth? what have you seen when no one else was there to see? is there a lonely spot of road that's made from you or maybe me? you knew one in the wintertime when walls were painted with despair and no place that you went preferred to anywhere or everywhere what is your plot? your character? your theme? why do you linger over post, or meme, or stare at empty screens and wait for words? or dream of flight, while sealing out the birds? the lonesome road of wintertime the isolated way; the habits that are character, the token we must pay to see while we have eyes to see, and not to look away: for humankind is horrible past what mere words can say. our eyes look down, the raptors coil above: it's only love that is our hope, and all our hope must be in only love
One day soon, you’ll see the sun,
And it will not be leaving;
One day soon, you’ll find some time
For something else than grieving.
One day soon, a fondest hope
Will be within achieving —
Yes, one day soon, you’ll find it, love,
If you can keep
Believing
The moon came down to comfort her,
To stroke her hair and make her tea —
The stars lined up to sing a song
And free her from her misery
The sunset left it’s curtains up
To shield her from her fading fears:
The moon came down to comfort her,
And wipe away her tears.
She read a book when just a girl
About a man up in the moon;
She looked up for him every night,
But with the years, became immune
To humanizing inert things.
But then life came unraveled:
Across a thousand heartaches, she
Had lately, sorely traveled —
A summer of insanity,
Of words and actions questioned:
Despair was closing in, until
The feeling somehow lessened —
The moon came down to comfort her,
To stroke her hair and make her tea —
The stars lined up to sing a song
And free her from her misery
The sunset left it’s curtains up
To shade her from her fading fears:
The moon came down to comfort her,
And wipe away
Her tears
Picture credit : © Songdech Moonta | Dreamstime.com – Dead Tree At Sunset
We have known the music of emptiness,
and truth be told,
at times, we have sought it.
Times when we seek,
not to make sense of it all,
but to accept the senselessness
and vanity that comprises much
of life.
This is not sadness,
it is a hollowness:
this us not despair,
it is more like
resignation —
But it is also
a type of detoxification,
an emptying out
to allow for the possibility
of refilling.
If wishes could our dreams make true,
I’d walk the fading path back home
And see the very best of you
Beside a sunset polychrome
But years come in, and like the tide
They bear away our wishes late,
To leave an emptiness inside
That is our burden and our fate
For much that was, no longer is,
And much we feared has come to be;
Until the day that just to wish
Becomes a part of history —
But that day is not here, just yet.
The waves are restless, topped with foam,
And I will not forsake, forget
The love that lights
The fading path
Back home
I’m really glad you’re happy
I’ve worried about you
I know we’re very different
The things we’ve each been through
For trouble’s lined your pathway
With much that was not good;
And decisions that you’ve made
I never really understood
But I have always loved you
That’s unlikely to cease;
I’m really glad you’re happy
And finally found
Some peace
A profound thought occurred to me,
Although it’s a tautology,
And that’s that we will always be
Just what we are: humanity —
The arguments that we’re drawn in
Of sex or sect, of class or skin
Are such that we can never win
And really, what they’ve always been:
Excuses. With our eyes turned out,
We void humility and doubt
That late, could help us turn about
And start a loving plant to sprout —
Because we’re human, we can be
So many things, but we are free
To stretch our moral paucity
With faith and hope and charity
when the lines are angled in,
don’t pretend you’re lonely;
when the pattern’s closing in,
don’t put on you’re sad —-
light does as it always does,
friendship is, where effort was,
though the lines be sharpened in,
much is to be had
if we see that image is
little more than lies;
when we see the way is ours,
then, to our surprise,
we can read between the lines
past our fear, and doubt —-
for the lines that angle in
also angle
out
