Contentment: a state of happiness and satisfaction

Here again I find myself
Always longing, always seeking
Trying to add myself to life's bookshelf

Even when I obtain what I think I want
And it seems I should be happy where I am
Some OTHER longing shows its face and taunts

I ever find myself straining at the bit
Seeking something I cannot find
Forever feeding the fire ambitiously lit

But maybe what I have is beautiful to see
Maybe I should pause a moment and reflect
On all the joyous blessings already given to me

There is a crisp chill in this changing wind,
As summer breathes its last and comes to an end,
As the sun dims the world seems to die
And a solemn tone touches the sky

As I meditate on this state of grave, lonely silence
I remember that this time brings nature to balance,
That winter-waiting will result in birth of spring
And once again the birds will come forth to sing

How beautiful to see this pattern replayed and repeated
And in my own life the pattern is completed
For as the seed must die before it gives,
So my own gasping frame must die before it lives

I am living the dream
Living my churning, yearning, ambitious schemes
Childhood castles in the air
Become a winding staircase to who-knows-where
Always higher, always more
Always a wish to beach another illusive shore
And yet, as I look upon what I possess
I feel one very sharp, painful absence
The one thing for which I crave most
Is still far from me, on some undiscovered coast
Eros, that love most fair
Still hides from me, though I sense her presence in the air
A dear and kind friend have I
To whom I would willingly give my heart's supply
But love (or its *******) is ever blind and blinding
And so his thoughts for me I have no hope of finding
And since Eros must live both ways
If he ever leaves, I will never have predicted him to stay
So I shall simply sigh and turn away
And live the dream while my favorite wish stays at bay

Who understands poets like us?
We see the universe in a person
We see sadness as a plus
We see the good when times worsen

Who can understand us?

We sit back and daydream
When others would despair
We grasp the magic of the moonbeam
Our hearts awaken to the fair

Who can understand us?

We put words to the artist's soul
We write the songs of bards
To voice the immortal is our goal
Of ancient legends we are guards

Who can understand poets like us?
Who can understand our hopes, our loves, or dreams except...
Each other

Dear Brother of mine, so far away
I think of you tonight as I kneel down to pray
Of your sorrow beyond words, of your heart fairly broken
Of how you feel "He" has drawn away love's token

Dear Brother of mine, my heart for you grieves
As the hope that seemed once to dwell in you leaves
I will not pretend your life has been easy
As so many "Christians" claim their lives are all breezy

Dear Brother of mine, I know grief in my own way
And so for your heart tonight I shall surely pray
May these prayers of mine be a warm hand to hold
As you suffer doubt in a world so cold

Leaves crackle as she slowly steps
She enters the glade, her magic she preps
She listens for the sound, first soft then strong,
This music is the Faerie Song

A smile creeps onto her face
As she observes the spider weaving her lace
This creature trims the gowns of Dryads
The velvity green of summer they add

The wind blows and they bow their respect
Their rustling applause goes unchecked
She pauses by one revered, acient tree's heath
And pats the small fawn resting beneath

On she glides, though the mists of twighlight
For ahead she sees a scene so bright
Dancing 'round an enchanted flame
Are the Faerie people, frolicking without shame

She steps into the light and all goes still
She throws back her hood that kept out the chill
The Fair Folk all bow as their clothes they brush clean,
"Welcome home, Fair Lady, our own gentle Queen!"

Down, down pours the rain
Producing on all a jewel-like stain.
Tear drops of Angels or deep sign of love?
Thundering fury or tranquil dove?

Each tiny drop glimmers with life
Creating a river to succor wildlife.
Now soft on skin, now harsh as rock
See how they shine on leaves of hemlock.

Down, down pours the rain
Pitter-pattering down the lane.
Hush, Dear Child, and do not cry,
Sleep to Nature's lullaby.