Your goodwill sent on an eternal path
-touched all hearts ever made
one thought in a universe of pain
-healed so much in its simple way
all those rippled ponds
-the gentle creation of a world of love
from the carpenters sweat working wood
-to hanging on the wood of the cross.

~||«§V§»||~

I shall make upon a tempest wind,
the howling lore of kin-dling Kin.
Naked as the growling lush,
exposed to gnarling mangle-brush;
cut deep a-depths~ a ghoul's ravine,
a chasm winding labyrinthine.

The cleric scolds the child's eye,
a vision purer shan't comply.
To each and every soul tis own,
the Majesty alone is known;
what cannot speak or read of such,
we walk alone, to staff we clutch.

Such passing is a bent display,
the overarching ******'s ray~
of light and luster gleams too much;
a subtle sense and gently touch.

The Maker's Mark as center thrice;
completed cross and circled square,
a lighter mist must walk you there.
Through hidden and unveiled descent,
the loving heart must twice repent.

So thorough bound~
the Hallowed Ground and dusty gems
wash clean and clear;
transmit the sound~
a vibrant round,
resounding through the atmosphere.

Like patterned rings and symphonies,
resolved upon each leveled wave;
a sonance much like paradise,
a fortitude as bolden-brave.

The House that thrills the Living Word,
enshrouds the saints upon their throne;
whose gardens groom a rich bouquet,
a fragrant mist of plush array;

Illuminates the Sacred Hall,
in reverence of which moves us all;
in song and dance, Eternally,
I leave you here to rest in me.

~||«§V§»||~

A collaboration between SG Holter and Elisa Maria Argiro

Hesitating here, silent edge of this dark forest,
I look beyond me, warm in the white fog.
Seeing your heart, now residing deep within
the ancient wood, is to know it is blessed, loved.

Silver tongue resting now in golden silence.
Palms of soul upon moss and brittle bark.
Animal song; scent of beasts approaching unafraid.
Fierce peace. The opposite of a machine.

In the rising sap of silent trees around us,
our deeply beating pulses listen, dance,
smiling kisses at the shining stars, new planets.
Eyes open, anima and animus press tightly
And distance is no more.

"What language is Yours,"
I ask the still growing giants of
Green.
"Silence and its sister tongues
Such as leaves dancing with the
Breeze," they reply within the
Gap between soft sounds and
Softer ones.
So we speak through breaths
Exchanged, of nothing.
Two souls afloat upon the stream
Of Union with All.
What is Cosmos,
But "home"?
Never a visitor.
Never a stranger.
Nowhere has anyone ever been
Lost, or
Away.*

Humming your essence into my veins,
in tune with the wordless languages
of green lives and wind, listening
among delicate flowers, sleeping here
on the forest floor, wakeful and awaiting
the next sound of your voiceless voice,
wind words blowing
through my long, curling hair,
feeling the intention of your
untouched touch,
at home, just being.