The Within

Poems, so weak and thin,
Strained efforts to free the within.

The within so deep, but yearning to emerge
Unable to ride the common words.

The within - illusive; sensed, but not.
Chest tight, sigh deep, then aught.

And you are there, within the within.
By poems I search your place therein.

My senses speak of the naught that is
And your presence within that unseen-ness.

Your fragrance, your voice, your touch, your eyes
Your lips, the taste of passionate sighs.

O that I could a word devise
To call to the depths the within to arise

To show itself, the naught that is
And your presence within that unseen-ness.

Dusk

Wind buffeting submissive trees
        ushering calm behind the breeze,

Passive surrender of the sun
        upon the canvas of day now done,

Captured witness of time now passed,
        fading, until at last

The victory of darkness then proclaims
        that naught but hope remains;

Hope in the dawn that faith demands,
        a hope so begged with lifted hands.

If alone I was to struggle so
        as I walk the way of darkness, O

My God I could not bear the load
        without my love who walks the road.

Her hand my comfort, your blessed gift;
        my soul to fill, my heart to lift.

May we together see the dawn,
        your promised day when else is gone,

The sum of all, come from above,
        we in you, in perfect love.
       

You Near

Your fragrance, unadorned but my soul it freshens
Your voice, so familiar, on my heart its impression
Your touch, still young with tender compassion
Your eyes, they sparkle in narrowing fashion
Your lips, such cuisine, the sweet taste of passion.