Able Eyes
As long as I have able eyes,
I shall gaze upon the skies…
For I’ve never seen a vision
More enchanting, more profound,
Than my white-on-blue illusions
That appear when clouds abound…
And I’ve never known a wonder
More inspiring to me
Than the heavens in their splendor
Shining forth nocturnally.
These are but two reasons why,
As long as I have able eyes,
I shall gaze upon the skies.
When I Look
When I look upon the earth,
On the essence of, it’s clear
There was once an Eden here.
There was once a fertile garden.
There was once a world so fair,
There was once an earth so virgin,
Paradise was everywhere.
When I look upon the earth,
I can see, despite a tear,
There was once an Eden here.
A Candle Burns
A candle burns through its descent
As glowingly as when first lit,
Although its fate is imminent
And to the dark it must submit.
A candle burns until it’s spent
And lessens death because of it.
An Image Formed
There was of clay an image formed.
A likeness of a man was made.
It was the dust of earth transformed
When one of clay an image formed.
A likeness of a man was made
When it was fired, given shade.
Now, being fashioned from the earth,
The image shall return. It must,
For it has been decreed a birth
Requires a return to earth.
And if I shall, an image must
Return to earth, return to dust.
Angel in a Cloud
An image of an angel in
A cloud would almost surely cause,
By reason of their discipline,
The theological to pause;
While those less spiritually endowed
Would give the angel lesser heed.
To them an image in a cloud
Would not be kindred to a creed.
Now, I, as one somewhere between
The loyal and the temporal,
And I, as one who’s never seen
Though would receive a miracle,
Believe that faith is like a seed
That grows into a special sense
Allowing one to better read
The clouds for heaven’s evidence.
A Garden Far Away
Somewhere, there is a garden far away.
I’ve heard them tell of it, the ones that know,
And I believe it’s true. It’s there, they say,
The rain descends as gently as would snow
And gales to break the blossoms never blow,
Where colors unimagined weave a blend
Beneath a kindly sky and no weeds grow.
Somewhere, there is a garden to transcend
What I have known, where faithful gardeners go.
Written Under a Tree
If flakes the size of oaken leaves
Fell from the sky in wintertime,
I think that it would be right to say or not
There’d be a lot of snow outside.
Yes, just a flurry could alight
To seem as if it snowed all night.
And if the size of acorns were
The drops of water in the spring,
To say a lot of rain there’d be
It would I think be fair, again.
Yes, just a sprinkle, in a bit,
Could seem a burst because of it.
If flakes…if drops…it’s fanciful
To contemplate such things as these,
Especially within the shade
Of this old tree and nearing sleep.
It’s fanciful, but has a key:
Good nature knows how things should be.
Taken by the Stars
I remember long ago
Lying neath a starry sky,
Pondering the heavens high…
When a feeling, not surmounted
Still by any enterprise,
Came upon me as I counted
Stars unseen but to my eyes.
I remember long ago
Lying neath a starry sky.
Taken by the stars was I.
Moon dream
I woke one night
To a glow at my window.
But was it real?
I’m wondering still.
Perhaps despite
My apparent awareness
I was asleep,
For dream sleepers will.
From bed I rose—
So alone save a circle
Of yellow moon
That seemed to be near.
Then, with repose,
This celestial mirror
Reflected truth
I’ve come to revere.
But how, I mused,
Could an object so lifeless
Arouse me so
In soul-stirring ways?
Was this suffused
Heaven-sent inspiration
Designed for all
Or only my gaze?
I passed the night
Kneeling still at my window,
Transfixed as though
These eyes weren’t my own.
A satellite
With the touch of an angel
Made real a dream
Like I’ve never know.
Foreknowing Men
I believe foreknowing men,
Well before the day is done,
Store their gold within the sun…
Set a diamond in a star
Luminous to every eye,
Lay a pearl upon the moon,
Share the turquoise of their sky.
I believe foreknowing men,
Richer, wiser there are none,
Store their gold within the sun.
The Perfect Order of the Night
Sometimes when I observe the sky—
On nights so deep, so clear, no star
Does seemingly escape my eye,
Regardless of how faint, how far—
Sometimes when I observe the sky,
I feel there would a certain scar…
Upon the souls of good men be
If stars grew lawless in their sight,
Abandoning their symmetry
As stars of lesser heavens might.
Sometimes when I observe, I see
The perfect order of the night.
This December Morning
This December morning I,
As I was my first look taking
At the new dawn’s wintry breaking,
Saw, beneath a cloudless sky,
An icy lie.
Everything, appeared it so,
Was adorned in white formation,
Which, without examination,
Could have been—it wasn’t though—
A thin new snow.
No, it was a frost—yes, one
Lovelier than I remember
Hitherto beholding ever.
It was work, with equal none,
By heaven done.
Skyward Journey
“I’ve come to seek advice,
With fear the way is lost. I am beside
Myself, for I have yet to know a sign
Directing travelers who must decide
Among these many paths. A hope of mine
Is when my skyward journey has begun,
In search of all angelic and divine,
Your truth-inspiring guidance will provide.”
Good to see this concern in such young.
This sign you seek is found within your heart.
And lost the way is not, although unsung.
Its harmony shall be your trusted part.
As to your skyward journey, it is true
You took a step when first a breath you drew.”
The River
Aware I’ve been since early years
The earth can teach diverse careers
To open hearts. What shall I be
That patterns correspondingly
With all I feel and see and hear
Of nature’s personality?
A mountain with its prominence
That towers toward the firmament
Should not be linked with my design.
Nor could a stand of fragrant pine,
When whispering in elegance,
Resemble an intent of mine.
But I believe a river well
Did influence this parallel:
Since early years along the side,
I’ve longed to on her courses ride,
Concordant through both ebb and swell,
And by her ways and means abide.
When I the Earth Consider
It’s said that in God’s image we are made.
Hence he, as we may him, must know us well
And all men’s hearts, with his, must be as one
And what is seen as fair must parallel.
When I the earth consider—verdant hills
Above the valleys neath the azure skies—
When I the earth consider, I believe
This true: God dressed the earth as through our eyes.
A Dawning
It surely was a dawning
More moving than are most.
I was to it a witness
(A witness very close)
And saw the door of heaven.
Enough said, lest I boast.
The air was calm and mystic;
Its colors, evident
With reds and blues and yellows
In mixed predominance.
It was a vivid image
Exacting reverence.
It surely was a dawning
More moving than are most.
I saw the door of heaven.
Enough said, lest I boast.
If I May a Candle Hold
I shall well be satisfied,
When the night is dim and cold,
If I may a candle hold…
For with faith a single taper
Can emit the light of day,
With a warmth that’s seldom lesser
Than the fire by which we pray.
When the night is dim and cold,
I shall deem it Providence
If I may a candle hold.
A Worthy Man
“A query that has stucked at hand.
I call upon your wisdom at this hour.
What is and does define a worthy man?
Is there among the scrub some special flower?
Are diamonds dashed atop mere shattered glass
Deserving to acquire a higher stage?
And are there kings amid the common mass?
Beseech you I , my humble, learned sage.”
The qualities all worthy men possess.
They deal in days that prove too brief, too few,
Accompanied by ache and weariness.
Of no import is beauty, wealth, or sway.
They live with piety; for strength they pray.”
Never Have I Touched a Sunset
Never have I touched a sunset
Nor embraced a twilight sky;
Yet on many evenings I…
Gazing toward an orange horizon,
Feeling that perhaps I could,
Have in adoration stood.
No, I’ve never touched a sunset—
An impossibility—
Yet they oftentimes touch me.
The Earth and Stars
I’ve faith in both the earth and stars.
Around they have a long time been.
My life was drawn from each, and I
Am subject to their discipline.
As well as can a mortal man,
I try to bide in unison.
But if I were to choose between
The earth and stars, if for the sake
Of choosing an eternity,
I would my mortal frame forsake.
Yes, if I were to choose, I think
The stars would be the choice I’d make.
Crystal Angel
I set a crystal angel in
My window yesterday
And gave no thought about it as
I shrugged and walked away.
Dispirited I might have been;
The sky was gloomy, gray.
When I awoke this morning, and
The sun came into view,
I saw things in another light,
My angel, window too.
Inspired I was by heaven’s hand;
The sky was brilliant, blue.
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