Welcome to the ride nowhere, somewhere around the corner,
Bound for some new world of fantasy as the whistle sounds,
Eerie looking ahead to make your bed in the nether lands,
Or with bands of nomads on desert plain to sustain living,
Believing there is more uptrack, but little in your haversack,
As the journey into eternity is a neverending bending reality,
What you see thru the glass as it all passes by in banality,
A totality of new abnormality in an endless dimensionality
Coming to the tremendously, truly beautiful uncomfortable in my own skin
Racing toward the terrifying, self-denying truth all in order to begin again
Watering an arid wasteland called ‘soul’ to now leave behind what has been
Altering consciousness in opening to the cosmos within your universal sheen
Following you where you’ve been and are and ever will be in eternity foreseen
Crying to be what self has always meant to be in me, far from trouble, so serene
Holding onto the dream of you holding me holding you so close in golden mean
So be bold to take hold against the cold of six-fold winter to remold the Soul . . .
And shall I be there?
Walking through that old dilapidated house so hauntingly empty,
So filled with terrorizing memories well alive clothed with death,
Arm in arm with you my strength securing my every fearful step,
Warm in you while wrapped in cold all around bound for tears,
And we hear silent screams from yesteryear as you steer me on,
Up the staircase all around from room to room to see the unseen,
Motions on the walls with footfalls not our own but of residents,
Unwilling prisoners imprisoned in doom without hope of release,
And my body quakes while my heart flutters as I draw you closer,
Closing myself round about you my brave better part of my soul,
Completing another circuit over time-worn floors quite forlorn,
And there are ancient rugs and beds, tabletops and chandeliers,
And windows with rich but worn curtains open to garden view,
Where weeds now grow where once there were flowers aglow,
And we know we are not long for this world till we bid farewell,
Leaving behind this house that is this life to rise up high into sky,
Winging our way toward heaven above
Two in eternal love now ‘n forevermore
Good to be me
Upon the rolling waves
Of this sea of life by divine decree
With much to save
Till I come home at last
Leaving behind me the withering past
All to be free
Note: The Septanelle is a verse form in seven lines with a syllable count of 4, 6, 10, 4, 6, 10, 4 and a rhyme scheme of a b a b c c a.
Broken . . .
Upon the hardest rocks of painful reality
While this ship sails into the setting sun
To an abandoned land none should see
With only empty tales told one by one
To an audience captured in melancholy
But this will not be our death knell folly
Hopeful . . .
In westward sailing despite all danger
While we sing through bitterest tears
Soothing our souls against rising anger
While releasing all of our bygone years
Tho’ darkness clothes us at holy Diwali
But this will not be our death knell folly
Living . . .
In a state of specially undeserved grace
When now all this points heavenward
So within the moonlight we see our face
Hearing angel songs we’ve never heard
Tho’ the life of our life be ever so faulty
But this will not be our death knell folly
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