"Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît pas."— Blaise Pascal
That I across thy path should wander
Perchance gaze in thine eyes sublime
And deep within their depths thus ponder
The mirrored soul that once was mine.
Safe haven there, I once sought fonder
waters than this sea's raging clime;
And safe I felt within their shelter,
Asunder though my soul be from thine.
Yet when fate's whim to change did ponder
Leaving body bereft of substance divine
Continued I my journey's saunter
Along a shaded path of pine and vine.
So curse me not upon my leaving
As I pursue my soul's own cleaving.
Speak to me of love, and I shall rejoice
To know that your eye's object is my own soul's port
Or that the subject of your tenor'd voice
Resonates no critique nor needs retort.
Speak to me of fate, and I shall reply
'Tis more than fate's silken thread that binds souls
'Tis choice by whose self-made might we comply
To deliberate oaths, to dual goals.
Speak to me of fear, and I shall remove
Myself from you to far-away shores
Lest I be overwhelmed and rightly prove
Your presence too powerful to ignore.
Only speak and make me to know your stance
Lest I pass by, knowing only your glance.
Should I attain to utter forth in sound
The content heavily anchored in my chest?
And though these utterances with hope abound,
Though lacking in eloquence, are ernest.
Should I regain a sense of clarity,
Amidst the turmoil of my circumstance
Would I proclaim you quite a rarity
A man worthy of at least a glance.
Should I disdain suitors' advances?
Counting naught vain pledges of attention,
Abandoning them to other chances,
Finding only you worthy of mention?
Pondering at length my temerity
I pause lest you doubt my sincerity.
I can't look at you, your beauty is too bright
I can't speak to you, the words fail to appear
I will write words formed in sideways sight
Instilling my presence though you're always near.
I will write of songs unsung and silent sounds,
Thoughts and inklings and ideas are unbound,
Communicating with keys and chords
Burning within — Halleluiahs, Amen Lords.
You write to me through prophetic might
The word invades my flesh bringing divine light.
I am silent without, yet singing within,
Me and God, let lectio divina begin.
Still waters run deep throughout my soul
Light turned to liquid, making me whole.
The shadow of your reflection seems to be
A glimpse of God's perfection, reveals to me
The extent of desire, filled with holy fire,
Longing in the now to see eternity.
I see a subtle shape, fleeting motion,
The notion of being, a serenity
Formed by insouciance of pure devotion
Yet blinded by your presence — epiphany.
Following close behind attempting to see
A clearer view, aspects of your dignity
Catching the pattern of your divine attire,
The robes and raiments that form your imagery.
Holiness knows its own passions and pursuits
Single-minded, subtexts of life, spirit fruits.
Wherefore the victory but in defeat?
How will I know the bitter from the sweet?
Can I but look at what the future holds
Knowing that in today's dross lies some gold?
I look for the morrow, tied to the now
I seek the perfect yet manage somehow
To live in the real, yet not lose sight,
of a prize, and of pearls, and death's delight.
Ambition's fierce grip has got me quite hard
Pursuing me over field, through yard
But I face the hope, lay my glory down,
Surrender to fate, and thereby gain ground.
Death to the flesh is a freedom from sin
Laying down my life, victory to win.
There are seasons in our life,
Periods of pain and strife
Times of renewal and growth
To be single or betroth.
To be one with you and see
The presence of your soul
Brought to mine in healing
And making me whole.
I will hold you while I can
Then release you to the One
Trusting Him to bring you home
Peace at last, no more to roam.
Death's departing glance might be
All I need--serenity.
Black as death, but not dark enough for me
Tea is too light, I need coffee
Where shall I go, What shall I do?
'Tis essential to find my brew.
Wandering through Pioneer Square
Past bums, buskers, and birds
I stumble in spite of despair,
Drawn forth by these words:
Espresso! cries every other shop.
Café! is the clarion of our town.
But I care not for their crude slop,
'Tis quality that pulls me 'round.
Torre, Torre, Torre! I cried
As they ushered me inside
Administering caffeine to my weary frame.
So forth I go to do battle again.
Monsters dance and shadows forward come.
The closet is safe, but never the bed.
I hide in the dark, pulling them one by one
Out they come, sneaking out of my head.
Not really toys and certainly not tears
Jumbled about with abandon and chaos
I play games with them, addressing my fears.
They are my secrets, silence made pathos.
I like my closet, a bolt hole so deep
A sanctuary in the confusion
A pillow and a blanket to cover my sleep
A temporary escape to illusion.
I need a safe place my soul to hide.
A place where I can quietly abide.
With my body I thee worship
With my tongue I thee implore
Take me, make me thine in spirit
Filled with knowledge ever more.
Leave no corner unexplored
Nor suffer hiding place to abide.
In my deepest heart of hiding
Let your love my fears override.
Penetrate the inner darkness
Rend the veil, push pain aside
Open wide these prison doors
Set them free, those caught inside.
Bind me to thee through flesh and spirit
Whispering sacred words, so I won't fear it.
Paradise lost, never again to be found
Recreate, but lose the essential element
The structures are there on the same ground
But gone are the souls that enliven it.
Barns in disrepair, houses left gaping
Wounds in the relics of lives now gone
Repair the holes, patch the strapping
that holds the pieces in stasis alone.
Farms and families torn to pieces--
Lives lived in honest work and play
They live on in memories and thesis
Captured in photos to view another day.
I long for youth and a lack of strife
On the family farm, my grandparents' life.
I know a place where quiet is the rule
I know a stillness that cannot be killed
Where every person is counted a fool
And apathy is reckoned wisdom fulfilled.
The upside is down, the sweet turned sour
Escape is not possible, nor even desired,
Lying for the day, every minute an hour
Eternity turns on, boredom richly attired.
In this place, I know of no rumors.
I know it's a state that suffers not pain
A dry quickening of the vitreous humors
Preservation and dust the final gain.
What I know, I fear not as my abode
What I seek, I see on another road.