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.

The Last Song

When the last song is written

When there are no more words to speak

When the souls of men are emptied

Before the one we seek.

With nothing left to offer

No wisdom that we give

When our works are shown as vapors

In Him alone we live.
 

Ever After

Love for a lifetime, can it be true?
A yearning deep, but held by few.
        
Something only for tales and stage?
Embers warm even with age,

When life is lived and all is done,
Someone to hold us and see us young,
            
Still warmed by our touch and loves to the core
That which we were and that which we are.

A mysterious gift which cannot be sold,
The value oft missed by those who hold.

A wealth held by commoners, desired by kings.
In the scales of the heart, else are lesser things.

Who are we that God has bequeathed
Such glistening jewel beyond belief?

We watched in awe, the precious stone made,
As the Master Stone-cutter continued his trade.

We flinched with the pain of his masterful stroke
Our edges and flaws therewith he broke.

With pride he reveals in approaching e'en.
Two hearts as one in glimmering sheen.

       

The Path

Come with me into the cloudiness

I lead without knowing
          the path's end or way,
or whether I shall be with you
          to the close of day.

In my hand is not wisdom
          of what from here lies,
but courage for the journey
          and passion for your eyes.

We

                             Light

                                            Sparkling
                      
                             Eyes

                                           Silver

                             Strands

                                           Glistening

                             Lips

                                          Glowing

                             Cheeks

                                          Burning

                                    We