Tag: Truth

And Heaven Weeps

Let compassion reign o’er malice as we drink from the chalice
Of love and peace from above, even in the face of vile rancor,
And may we stay the course set before us even when reviled,
And let us weep in keep with the tears of heaven for the child
Once meek and mild, now gone wild, where faith once lived
But now only ruins remain to mark the place of dead belief,
And may we pray for the day that hope is revived in his soul,
But above all, let us carry on in cadence with the song of truth
Under the banner of compassion every day along life’s way. . .
Though heaven may weep in keep with all the strain and pain
Of her pilgrim children marching onward through this world
To gain the Promise of the Ages from the torn pages of history

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The Project

Millions pray, millions cry, many even die
All for wars to cease and for peace to reign,
And the truth is most people do get along
Just as fine as well-aged wine and would
Gladly dine with one another in harmony;
So who is it that incites violence and war?
Who first tore the delicate fabric of peace?
We need a new lease on life in this world,
And this is the daunting project haunting
And taunting those of us who love to love
And live in serenity with all of humanity;
Ah! But this is quite a feat even as we hear
The drumbeat of the battles to be fought
By those who have been sold and bought
And brought into the service of those who
Will never see the field soaked with blood;
Most of those who have seen the horror
Of war want war no more for they know
How high the price to pay
And will not roll the dice!
Oh, but somebody does . . . who are they?
And how do they hold at bay peace
In our day; how do they block the way?
Ah! How do we go about this, our Project?

The Query Psalm

When you came to me in the wasted land I was at the door of death,
And you stooped low and, face to face, breathed on me your breath,
But I was so utterly weary I didn’t even know what you were doing,
So I heard the sound of your voice as you lifted me from the ground,
Telling me all would be alright as you walked on through the night;
And I could scarcely comprehend, but you did not reprimand me;
We only travelled on and then I only remember awakening one day,
Lying in green pastures with the serene stream gurgling nearby me,
And you were there, so near and dear, tenderly tending my wounds,
And later I was able to eat and drink and stand on my very own feet,
And you smiled wide, embraced me, and I could feel your heart beat;
Then I looked around in awe as I saw hundreds and thousands here,
Each of them dear to your heart, my Beloved, but what of me now?
You’ve not left me bereft of your love, but is there something more?
You know that I adore you more than any other, but is there more?
No, I am not abused or misused by your hand, but is there yet more?
Oh! I see the sand in the distance and ask, ‘Am I part of your band?’
Yes, I see the sand in the distance and ask, ‘Am I part of your band?’
Ah! There must be some reason that I will know in due season . . .
Because you came and found me, not I you, and you redeemed me;
Yes, when I was at death’s door, you breathed on me your breath . . .
Of Life

My Soul is Whole (Sevenfold)

My days are brighter with you,
And I know you love me, too;
My nights are not quite so dark,
Nor is the black quite so stark;
With you my own soul is whole,
And life cannot take its toll,
For you are my Beloved . . .

Note: This poem is written in seven lines with seven syllables in each, thus it is a sevenfold poem. Hope and pray you enjoy… Blessings to one and all!

Face of the Phantom Lady

Face . . .
Her face, barely visible, will appear so near to him
To again begin the chase in which case he will lose
But she calls to him with her eyes that spy his soul
And bids him leave this world
Into which he has been hurled
So he tries to reach her lovely, numinous presence
With the very essence of what he is in this half-life
Even knowing he cannot quite reach her
As she is showing him a different world
And he cries each time it does come to say goodbye
But with heavy sigh he knows when to stop chasing
And start facing reality again … but he does wonder
If this mysterious lady is more real than his reality
And that he actually lives in one stream of dreams
While his dear lady comes out of the booth of truth
Barely showing her . . .
Face

An Unexpected Departure

Many days washed away during an unexpected stay
In a place secluded from the pace of ordinary ways
For the repair of mind to find fresh peace and solace
And a newer lease on life and serenity unfurled
In this world of painful woes and watery wishes
And now to see what may yet be in store for me
With hope … always anticipation in an emancipation
From baseless fear with God so near and angels dear
Yes, with this I have made the return
With hope that burns right brightly!
After days washed away during an unexpected stay

Have You Ever?

Have you ever seen your life reflected in someone’s eyes?
Have you ever felt your unseen self floating in the skies?
Have you ever heard your unsung song sung in a stream?
Have you ever met your mirror image in a vivid dream?
Have you ever known there is more to you than you see?
Have you ever shown yourself what your self could be?
Have you ever been drawn beyond the dawn of being . . .?
Have you ever?

And the Spirit Moves

When the first winds swept the earth, before the birth of humanity,
Before the Great Calamity, she moved across land and ocean deep
With all of its hidden keeps, bidden by her love to breathe out life,
Spirit divine, shining brightly, creating the world as an holy shrine,
Sign of desire, and never to resign from her beautiful, sacred work;
Twas when the earth was young and mirth hung heavily in the air,
And all to prepare a paradisiacal home for the epitome of creation;
And there’s been no cessation of motivation of the same holy Spirit
Since time began as she still flies across the earth, place of our birth,
Breathing life into lifeless souls, filling the holes of hearts torn apart,
Shining more brightly than the light of the sun for those who can see
Through the cross-cleansed lens of faith and have been made friends
Of the Spirit rather than many dead men walking in need and greed,
And acrimony, rancor, enmity and stony hearts as phony creatures
Though they feature themselves as wise teachers ‘n even preachers;
Ah! But the Spirit still sweeps o’er this world and never does sleep
But moves across the land and oceans deep with their secret keeps