Longing

Tell the birds to stop their singing.

Tell the butterflies to go away.

Tell the bells to stop their ringing

Tell the colors to turn to gray.

Have the clocks to stop their ticking.

Have the children stop their play.

Have the harpist stop her picking.

Have the moon to go away.

Stop the river from its flowing.

Stop the stars and crystal sky.

Stop the breezes from their blowing.

Stop all wonders by and by.

Count the minutes I am mourning.

Count the tear drops from my eyes.

Count the depth of this fore longing.

Count the anguish where it lies.

Please the minstrel to stop playing.

Please the singers to go away.

Please the dancers stop their dancing

Please the pain to stop I pray.

All if this because I miss you.

Have you ever?

Have you ever known sincerity?

Have you ever known this calm?

Have you ever held a thing of rarity?

Have you ever sung this psalm?

Have you ever danced this dance of joy?”

Have you ever played this tune so rare?”

Have you ever returned to a children’s toy”

Have you ever played without a care?”

Have you ever seen the mocking bird?”

Have you ever known its laughing tease?”

Have you ever heard that loving word?”

Have you ever been so pleased?”

I have for in your eyes is truth’

and you say you love me.

This Single Woman

I see truth in her eyes through which I can see her soul

Long serving

Hides her pain

Clings to hope

Beams with grace

Gives her most

Cries alone

Wants to share

Longs to understand

Feels forlorn

Prays to God

Sustains with faith

Dulls her pain with drink

She waits and hopes

She dreams of that one shoulder to cry on;

That one who understands.

Loves Rare Scene

Morning broke and for a moment the sun shone through a sever in the clouds;

Nestled in a cabin in the forest, in the wood, we are far from cares and concerns.

The sever closes and the red gleam of the sun dims as more soft clouds envelope us.

You come to me with warm drink and pastry as an ever so gentle rain begins.

It is warm yet cool because of the rain, this lovely soft rain that soothes the mind.

And, then the music begins, that lovely cherished sound that is only your voice.

It is the voice of my love, my darling one that so graces me with her presence and love.

At times I fear the loss of my own soul if she should be gone.

And then you take me with your cunning and comfort, body to body beyond measure.

Nature in the midst of nature and you love me beyond measure, body to body and body to soul. The animals watched with no concern as if to learn from this rare scene.

And the lovely rain came down and ecstasy was known.

I do so love you.

Think Lovely

Think Lovely;

pink roses, humming birds, autumn colors and rainbows.

Think Joy;

laughing children, kind smiles, sweet hello’s and lovers.

Think comfort;

downy beds, cool in summer, warm in winter and hugs.

Think beautiful;

mountain streams, golden sunsets, the fairest of maidens and you.

I WOULD RATHER

I would rather have fifteen years of calm than fifteen minutes of fame.

I would rather be an aged oak standing firm upon the ground than the rush of many saplings that are scattered all around.

I stand against the axmen with ambition to cut me down.

He hacks against my sinew well knowing I am bound.

I would rather be a mocking bird dancing on the wing, for my stage is not ambition and I truly like to sing.

So there you have the mighty oak with a bird to dance its crown.

Laughing at ambition for none could cut him down.

Savor the day and slow down.

Life is long if you choose.

RAMBLING OF THE WAYWARD MIND

Caught with relief on a cool morning after a long stretch of summer heat,

 as the clouds shroud the morning sun,

I’m beset with contemplations of the labor of the day before.

The world around is buzzing with busyness as each individual chases the necessary needs of survival, of want, of pleasure.

This amount’s to labor for the most of us, with the manipulation by the cunning, which are the least of us, that conspire to avoid life’s labor. But always is the constant churning of ambition.

Imagine an iron anchor for a sailing vessel attached to an unbreakable chain.

Now, cast it overboard, hard upon the rocks and feel the wayward ship come to a stop.

Slow the mindless ambition, and rest.

Long life is not hurried.

Be not bored with simplicity and take time to taste and savor.

And the cool breeze washes over me, a breeze I would not have felt lest I stop to feel it.

Understanding

Understanding

I understand

I see, I know, I capitulate

Knowing

Knowing what?

Knowing a fact.

Is your knowing Objective or Subjective?

Singular understanding.

You perceive something to be fact.

This is your singular subjective observation.

Plural understanding.

You and others agree on a fact.

Is that then Objective?

We understand?

I see the man is dead.

We see the man is dead.

Therefore the man must be dead.

But,

I love.

You say you love.

I cannot feel what you feel.

Therefore I doubt.

I only know that I love,

And your love must be proved.

A God in heaven alone is the God of nothing.

The Adoration of Kindness

One might say that grace is the ultimate state of being rising above the noise of discontent. But then discontent stems from want, the want to be nourished, the want to be sheltered from the many harms of our physical existence.

Intelligence can artfully dance upon the sea of our material world. We ogle the masters of the ‘Glass Bead Game’ rendering our service to their wisdom and the very shares of our labor to buy the luxury that can distance us momentarily from our discontent.

Ideologically we weigh in the balance our governance of right and wrong and by discourse defend our means or wage or right to be. Under freedom and democratic argument we determine our justification of the classes from poor to bourgeois to opulent or even megalomania.

One might consider that a beggar on the street that refuses to work, with the exception of mental illness, is a tyrant allowing your children to labor in their stead to provide for their needs and wants. Could this mean that charity in this case is miss-given? Thus many pass by a vagabond with a sign, “Will Work for Food,” unless they will really work for food. Some just succumb and think, “If you are so low that you need to be on the street with a sign, you are truly needy.” They render up a bill or two and feel they have done charities’ call.

So as you meander through this incomprehensible realm look deep into the eyes of your fellows, discerning each individual by the best of your judgment and render grace and kindness where it is due, even unto your adversary when found in need and he will no longer be your adversary.

Now the world is contrary to this with its brutal economic competition until there is devastation, then wonders never cease as the kind come forth to give all that they have.

We are at our best when we are broken and don’t you adore when someone is kind.

For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

Contrition

Contrition, contrite, repentance, remorse, regret, sorrow, sorry, penitent, apologetic.

Grace, forgiveness, elegance, refinement, loveliness, polish, beauty, poise, charm.

The order of terms suggests that you cannot have the latter without first being broken.

And thus the necessity of the differential, without it there is no meaning.

Ignorance proceeds wisdom and even God cannot prevent this existential truth.

We weep for our children knowing the path to knowledge is suffrage.

Would that you could tell them but they will not listen until burned.

The world is an incorrigible child not yet contrite. Oh the sorrow!