Seems like all my prayers get answered
But it is always in some half baked way
Like God was laughing at me  saying see:
You should have given me more details.
The devils in the details I know but I think
That I should not have to be so Speciific.
You should be able to full out my requests
So as not to make a clown out of me and
Did I mention some things really hurt, still
Do. I have to admit I have learned a lot by
Having to learn to make do with this rough
Draft for the masterpiece I meant iy to be-
Still I wish I could say to you like Job that
I spoke as I did because I knew not and
You would accept that and say I spoke
Truly and that I was really a very good
Fellow and that you were going to give
Me back all that I have lost and more to
Boot.  I do believe  but please keep your
Promise soon because otherwise... I may
Not live long enough to appreciate it

The Chinese Sage Hang In said: If
You believe there is a state of mind
That if you had it All would be well
Then believe it is Now then travel to
Jt again.  There is no in between-stay
On that road for as far as it goes-there
Is no alternative route-enjoy the journey
There is no hurry,  Perhaps we will meet
Along the way.  All is Well  All is well

The faith in tomorrow's sun
does brighten as much as the
Present does and like memory
Does make sepia prints of the
Days gone by;  even of darkest
Times no others really know-
Am ashamed to acknowledge
Where weakness hides and
Says to Death it is cruel of you
Not to make it quick and so
I am waiting still for Now to
Pass as slow darkness comes

...and of all of life the most enduring
Is that I dared not love but could have
Loved had I seized the passing time.
Yet there is this Love has it's seasons.
The Spring that promises it's sweetest
Treasure is to come; Summer the bud
In bloom; Autumn when the harvest
Is Gathered while the rose and golden
Leaves flutter down; Winter the end
Time come with it's simple hope pure
As snow that another time will come
In sleep, a dream of all born again in
Innocence to love in the coming of the
Light; our youth still more glorious
We will wake up in our dreams and
Be fearless in our love then for that
Better time to come I will regret not
The Sweet sorrows of these partings
For without such there would be no
Youth nor any youth to return to.



For My Mother who would have me remember old blue eyes
His and hers and mine

He who is deprived of water will
Drink from the pig's trough and
Give thanks.  The same is true of
Love-make it scarce then where-
Ever it is found it will be taken- in
Rags or harlots dress it will be
Blessed, counted as God's truest
Charity.  It is in our nature to seek
The life in the water we thirst for it
To take love where it can be found
Be not overly pious about your high
Standards of purity such is not for
God' children we who are hungry-
Thirsty now do believe there are
Angels in disguise for Love's sake
Is it our place to question Charity
Saying I am too good for this?
Love is not ours because it loves
The perfect but that it must love
Even us. Gather ye rose buds while
Ye may that you know that love
Even your love makes perfect the
Eye that sees  and what it beholds.
For those hungry for love know it
Is true: hunger makes good sauce
In the desert all water is holy water
Pray God that you may know this
By Faith and not require the proof.
But in the end it will make not a bit
Of difference for Love conquers all.

I have not peace with death
Though it may be the peace
I do not now know will come
But to live shunned by love-
What sort of life is that-It is
War and a divided house can
Not stand-One side is for the
Union the for the other against
Love divided is not Love but if
For Love I stand I must also go
To war and cannot agree to die
Whilst yet we are divided my
Love.  Love is not Love that is
Not whole.  Love is One. As a
Nation so unto each of us- Love
Conquers all even death-  To
Death I say it is not with you
I have an argument-  For all
I know I might have come to
You sooner but for the War
For the sake of Love I had
To press on;  For Love is not
Love that would not be as
One   Let the war be over
Then Lord, I will know that
Love everlasting is the end
For which we fought and died
Won for all the ages to come
Come! With Charity for All
And malice towards none.  



For Abraham

There is a Land of Magic
A bold fingger points the
Way as if to a solid place
You can travel.  But it is to
The -unbelieveable.-you are
Beckoned and the truths are-
That are iconic- that are in
Hollywood revevisited are.
But the signs that you must
Seek are something stranger
More inexplicable that is
The self you do not know
Yet I say: This is not it but...
It is a greater mystery still.

Why believe?  The enemy is real
So real that is come to slay you-
Death so close you can taste it-
Like there is no tomorrow and
Strange flames lick like fear at
The door of your soul then you
Still may know this: It is not.
Has no place inn your heart
But comes to you like an alien
Invader to claim your Earth- a
Portal opened from an evil eye
That says I can make you leave
All you love-take all you love
Away from you. I am King of
Of Make Believe and your true
Ruler.  Then I hear myself cry:
Truth!  Truth!  Wake me up it
Is you I love.  Oh Lord Help!
Then I heard Him say: Lift-
Lift up your Heart and Live

There are many beautiful things here
On earth.  Places and persons we may
Visit, never going far from home.  It
Is our choice.  In nature there are what
Is called  "Acts of God"that we have no
Choice about but must get thru them
As best we can.  But for much of life
We go to places we would not by an
Act of choice.  To be fair there are to
Be sure reasons: to prepare against an
Evil foreseen; to learn from- so to avoid
A next time.  We go to war to defend
The peace-afraid to do otherwise would
Be cowardly and invite aggression. There
Is no end of rationales for our sorties near
To the bad place we would not go-whole
Segment of our society and many of our
"Finest"have it in their job description,
Are duty bind to look deeply into hell.
Is there something wrong with this?
Almost certainly.  Should we rather be
Like ostriches burying our heads in
The sand.  Be liked the three monkeys
That see no evil; hear no evil; speak no
Evil.  We should at least be allowed to
Doubt bad news-Knowing Satan is a
Liar.  We should doubt the benefit of
Being warned about evil as it so often
Lead to self fulfilling prophecies and
Errors of judgement repugnant to our
Conscience.  It is a morass.  A world we
Would not and it is all too much for us.
Our world is not as we would have it.  If
It is the truth we say unto our God: Let it
Not be so.   I give up; it is up to you to make
It better.  For my part let me do my best
To contemplate your Grandeur-Oh and
Thank you God for all the dappled things.



Acknowledging my debt to Gerard Manley.
Hopkins and his two famous poems

Love is always first awake
Always fresh.  First to know
From the early bud to full
Bloom. from Spring to Fall
The sadness that is its going
Dying then and shorn of it's
Beauty only thorns upon
The still green stem.  The
Whole is greater than the
Sum.  Love writes  our
History; closes the book
And says with it's last
Words that it is  to love
The final victory's given:
The meaning of all the  
Rest. As it was in the
Beginning a rose is for
Forever to me with love


For Grandma Rose

God said to thepersnickiity judge
I will make a man out of you yet.
How so said the Judge do you
Know the Sovereign?  God
Said: There is only you and me
Here.  What shall we wager, a
Life for a life.  Sounds Fair.  But
The judge said who will say it is
Me  if there is only one left. God
Said One will be gone one will
Be left  Let all men judge for
Themselves who is he. I can
Only say He is my Father.
Who looks not upon my sin

To be seated in your midst knowing
What the longed for child knows that
He belong that she delights; can do
No wrong that would take away the
Birthright to be seated here. Strong
Is the content to be least among many
By love assured in this community
Belonging a colleague  ever anon.
That  may bear witness to the glory

Our Father You who are at all times everywhere
The only true reality.  Your Kingdom is now and
Always was and forever will be.  You give us our
Daily bread.You forgive us.  We too forgive all.
Boundlessly are we are loved so boundless is
Our love.  You do not lead us astray but Keep
Us safe.  We see you now as in a vanishing mist
Ever more clearly that our love may grown
But in our heart of hearts you are truly one.

There are many ideas we lend
Credence to.  Old saws too
Often heard.  We believe
Them .  Think they are
True in a pallid way but
Convincing proof it is no
Longer known. Yet were
Once truly experienced
Now they are tired unto
Death.  What is this but
A forgetting of tiredness
Of unfeeling.  To wake to
A new vibrancy of feeling
Of meaning, of keenly
Knowing.  Look and be
Astonished at how the
Grass is green.  Feel its
Green love.  Let it go in
You.  It is a salad that
You are hungry for.
Eat it with voracious
Eyes as the truth of
Green love.  You are
A horse set free at last
Into the living meadow
Do you not love Him
Who has said I make
All things new (at last)
But it was always so
And it is a wonder and
Cannot be remembered
I love you.  I love you.


For Stanley who loved the green

That we are living in Alternative
History and How long has it
Been?  If we have anything
To thank DT for it is at last
We must take the question
Seriously and if we choose
In the affirmative- What
If anything can we do.?
Can I can you Wake up
If we don't realize we are
Dreaming; a serial dream
Of many days and nights.
I imagine it will take a  loss
Of memories, a collective
Alzheimers in which we
Return to childhood where
History is only a rumor, a
Fairy tales that has some
Entertainment value to
Adults; but  is a story
We can only enter into
By a suspension of Dis-
Belief; and what do we
Really believe in in those
Childish days  For myself:
There is a Mother and Dad
A baby sister Sue, My two
Grandmothers and my
Aunt. My neighborhood
My dog Stubby and my
First best friend Ronny.
My neighborhood of
Small houses on a circle
Other children.Exploring
A little woods secluded
And finding some big
Mica rocks and strange
Red bugs under them with
Ronnie and Stubby nearby
All the time in the world
Today...  I suppose  that this
Too is a dream or  memory
Of a dream.  But it is a
Better dream and some
Of us old folks know it.
Just too many fake facts
Today  and so Donald
It's good to know that
There is something we
Can agree on even if
Its not that you really
Won the presidency.

Life is a poignant tale. Travels
Faster than the speed of light
leading fools to dusty death
I trust  S, meant that in a
Kindly way.  It is not our
Choice, poor players to be
Otherwise.  From the dark
Of earliest beginnings to
We get to Now faster than
A speeding bullet traveling
Through times tunnel but
Tomorrow is yet a ways
Off we think. It is more
Powerful than a thundering
Locomotive that goes thru
Everything to get you
To the end who knows
Where or when.  What
I mean to say is that
I was young once like
You and it all passed
In a moment in the great
Fire leaving only the ashes
Of knowing it was gone.
But when it's gone
It's gone.  Gone to
Memories all.  Even
Unto that original
Darkness from whence
We came  and if it should
Last a million million
Years till the light comes
To your eyes again.it will
Seem like only yesterday
You passed away and were
Born again today.  It is
Not within the power of
An ordinary man to do
All this but any super-
Man like you or I Yes
We could do it.  Dusty
Death Hell no not us.
Not forever.  The Bard
Be ****** The comet
Will return and so will
Mark Twain and the
Baby Jesus too   Just you
Wait and see Even S.
No matter what he
Said.  There are more
Things under heaven
and Earth than are
In your philosophy
Alas poor Horatio
I knew him well
So maybe we can
Both be right but
Yesterdays comet
Is gone and life is a
Poignant song that
Is famous log ago.

It is hard to explain-The busy
World becomes more alien
You are no longer a part of
It-In truth it was never all
But the stranger in you is
Larger now till it is largest
You do not notice until you
Bump up against the world,
The normal seems so strange
It is a great pretense to know;
A self agrandisement, and
Vanity of knowledge-Un
Aware that all is passing
Away.  This you see more
And more but the World
Cannot Cannot admit it
Is only playing. Play is
For children is it not?
We  who are better know
WE Know; and must be taken
Seriously.  Such is the
World that with all of
Its might it thinks it is
Right.  Has the right
To be the lawgiver of
Reality; and woe to you
If you get in the way.
Alas poor Jesus, poet
Of the living gospel
You did not go along
It seems you are ever
More with me now.
And the Kingdom of
God still so far but more
And more all that matters.
It is hard to explain but
There must be Another place
Something every child knows.
There must be another place

Like any writer I am
Concerned with the
Right word but only
So much if it eludes
Then I count it love's
Labor lost and it is
Only right for love
Should not be a bit
Of labor I am told.
Anyway I believe
That the ill fitting
Word can even at
Times work better.
Like the boy who is
Wearing his older
Brother's handme-
Downs may look
More winsome to
The loving eye who
Sees knowing life's
Struggle- understands
The child's goodness
Better than the tailor
Fit could express it.
Sometimes a little
Play a;  little wobble
Is best.  I am told the
Earth's orbit shows a
Small eccentricity that
It will probably grow
Out of just before we
All crash into the sun
Until then I say we can
All be write as we are.

Call it God; Call it Love
Our heart has arrows
Our soul takes aim
We are ready.  We know
What is right but woe
Is me it is not to be.  
The world gets in the
Way and our libido
Cannot be denied. The
Arrows go forth but
Miss their intended
Mark go not where we
Would have willed them
Our best desires are
Compromised.  It is
Not fair.  Our perfect
Love, our perfect life
Was it not meant to
Be?  What we have
At best is some kind
Of compromise that
Is by comparison with
The ideal clearly an
Ungodly mistake.
This gap between the
Ideal and the actual is
The noblest desire
Debased -is sin, an
Unwilled event that
Took the place of
What one could not
Have.  We do what we
Would not as Paul
Has said.  All knowl
Their True self but
All fall short.  Our
Disappointment with
Each other is mutual
Our love is imperfect
Beauty and truth that
We desired we could
Not have  though we
Burned for them.God
With held His best gifts
So we made do with
The baser metal and
Indulged in all manner
Of corruption. Such is
Our disappointment that
We must all be forgiven
Ought also to forgive all
But this is the  wisdom of
Love and comes at the end
Only after much time do
Know that we can love
One another even as
Imperfect as we are As
God loves his children
Because they all would
Be good if they could.

Conventi0nal logic tells us that
Nothing that is impossible is
Possible.  Good as far as it goes
But the known and unknown
Coexist- figure and ground-it
Is contrast that is ever needed
Necessarily coincident to be-
Come conscious of conscious-
Ness.  Thus though it seems
Illogical the nothing that is
Impossible must be possible.
What profit a man if he gain
The whole world but lose his
Soul?  Do we not know the
Answer?  But what difference
Does this knowing make?  No
Difference between difference
And No  difference because
They are One.  I die I am born
I die again.  Each is antithetical
Each is an affirmation of the
Other and are coincident in
The micro consciousness of the
Moment eternal. With God all
Things are possible because No
Thing is possible without God
I am that I am   All -Nothing
We Are like Him His Children

The wheatt grass girl was like
TheWee people, more spirit than
Woman; less sun than moon-
.  I would like to  catch her but
She would die.  It is better she
Is free and not mine to keep
It is a wane wine that I drink
That she may come near to
Take a sip.  I know she loves
The green tea more than me
But stiill I would like to know
Her better  like the Spring
Before she is gone forever.

After an uncertain amount of time
He woke.  It was  bitter realizing
He had died.  He knew he had not
Been a particularly good man nor
Bad.  He could not appeal his fate
To a higher power but still was it
His fate to be alive imprisoned in a
Coffin?. For who could tell how
Long? -it just did not seem right
Indeed it was unacceptable to
Him personally -to confront it
Head on was insupportable
His mind began to wander
Hither and wither  only to
Return to the gravity of
His situation after many short
Dalliances  with relatively
Pleasanter thoughts--bit
By bit like a Pavlovian dog
He returned less and less
At some point in his day
Dreaming he drifted off
To sleep thence to a dream
In it He was alive in a far
Land; a stranger it was  not
Without its fascination but
He keenly felt weighty
Sense of being alone and
Wondered at the wisdom
Of venturing further
He then came to upon
A cross roads where the
Paths diverged in a wood
Suddenly He remembered
He had died and if he woke
That is where he had left
It was that or choose to go
On living in the dream.
He chose the less traveled
Path; and that has made
All the difference; and the
Rest is history as they say.

Anyway it was long time
ago but I should say that
John after a long journey
Did find his way back to his old
Home and into the arms
Of his Beloved sweetheart
It was just another instance
Of the strange occurrences
At Owl Creek Bridge But
I do not suppose you remember
It was such a long time ago

Oh My Love
Won't you come back
I have been possessed
By your absence
I am tired of trying
Tired of Crying
It does no good
Still I cannot see you
Be with you.  Cannot
Forget your absence
It was all I had left
Could not let it go
Though I knew it
Was not you. No
It is not not you I seek
Leave me.  Go! You
Are not my people
I set you Free.  Oh
Hosea Let me tell
My People I have
Not forgotten you
In that place where
You said: You are
Not my people  There!
You became my people.
Praise be to the God of
Abraham who's son was
At the last moment was
Not sacrificed but saved
Your Love that seemed
Not to be but still was

I remembered you like it was
Yesterday, a long time ago
Brown eyed girl where was
It now that we were then?
I know we had a thing but
I forget what it was but for
A moment it was all coming
Back but it was so long ago
Hidden in a dusty niche
I felt tears welling- how much
I had lost a to time-the unknown
Unnowns of yesterdays that
I had once been familiar with.
As if between dreams;
Under attic eaves in an
Amber dusty light there
Was a time every day I
Used to come and play
With a little kitten to
Forget a world that was
Too much.
Not quite real nor
Yet a dream. a place
In between>  It was you
My brown haired girl.

Believe me
I have known
Life
I have known grief
I have been joyful
I have been at peace
Amidst tribulations
I have shed tears by
The bucketful and
God let me go on
Without any answer
to my sadness.
What are words about
Love?  Are they ever,
Can they ever be more
Than symbols uf things
More real?  More treasured?
Oh Poets be not proud.
A child's laughter is more
Profound.  But that too is
But a symbol of something
Inward, of the Spirit.
I realize now that God is
Polite.  He does not ever
Interrupt our petitions
Our woeful prayers but
Waits until their end
Before He answers
Then is wait   upon our
Notice  He has Answered
.  Let us  now Sing
His Praises for He Is
Good as those who know
Believe. Know  Believe    
Hallelujah  hallelujah
Amen  


For Aretha

That is not the question
To love is not always to be
Loved back yet the lover
Sees in the beloved reason
Enough and indeed more
It is a command and not
To be resisted but prevails
There is no choice not to
Love but it is whether to
Fully embrace or to be
Conflicted-To say Oh
Woe is me I am a sinner
Addicted to my sin. The
World seem filled with
Accusers who threaten
The life of one who will
Not accept the hypocrisy- to
Repent of the official "sins" of
An Unsanctioned Love that
Is Universal is to be an
Out caste condemned
This is the crisis of man
In this world but not of
It.  God's Angel laugh
At the world's folly- that
Love can be flogged and
Lied to death and take it
Lying down  in the grave
Making fools rule over the
Kingdom of God' Children.

If only I could have kept my children close
To me-  feeling my love for them ; and they
Showered me in their Joy that we werea
Famiy I would feel myself the geatest of
Kings without any riches added.   Nor in
Worldly powers but in what is the most
Important- what is truly the desired and
Beyond price.  Is this not so God asked ?
And I saw He had tears in His eyes.
 I said Father it is the Truth.  I am
A Father too  and with tears I spoke..

First there is the Darkness
Nothingness in the beginning
Is not so great but soon it seems
Peaceful but rather dull but in
Little while one learns to dream
Learns he can create almost
anything, scary,beautiful
Funny-But it is a power too
Wonderful not seek the very
Best. But what is that. He
Asks who can tell me and
Hears a Great Voice Who
Says I am God and I can give
You what you seek Let me
Show you My Kingdom.
It is called Love and You
Can live there with me in
Perfect happiness forever
The little dreamer saw it all
Knew that what God said
Was True and knew too that
That he owed it all to the
Darkness.  It was then that
Little dreamer knew that
It was the darkness was
The Mother of the dreams
Of Love   that could not
Have been but for Her

Alas love conquers all
Even the longest night
Just at that moment the
Babe was born. He cried
Out.  
God's Kingdom was gone
It was terrible this helpless
Not  knowing anything
About this new place. But
The cry of the babe brought
Joy to the Mother for it means
The child is Alive and in her
Heart she praises God that
She had been given this Gift.

If you cannot be outraged into disbelief
No matter how evil the matter reported
How can you believe in a Good God?
Do you not say to yourself what kind
Of a god allows this-Not Mine!  Does
A loving parent no matter how liberal
Ever knowingly allow his child to do
A grave injury to his fellow people?
I think not.  Freedom has its limits
That our true nature is grateful for.
Let me ask would you prefer that
There were no Holocaust deniers or
That there we no Holocaust.  I know
The Argument that we must Keep
Evil in our memory so as prevent it
Ever happening again.  How does
The saying go: No news is good news-
But it doesn't sell papers. I am not
Against fiction just glad that it is
Fiction.  But you say: What of the
Truth?  When Pilot asked Jesus
What is the the truth? Jesus made no
Answer except by His silence.  Yes
Silence is Golden. He did not answer
Neither should you or I.  I know this.
Bu we know in our hearts what Love
Would have  Be.  Thy Kingdom come
Thy will be done on Earth as in Heaven
That is Our prayers that it be so Forever
Oh God  Help Us to Lift up our hearts.


And When have we ever been prevented
From doing wrong by hearing about it
.its just
Plain wrong.

I am odd are you odd too?
I have long identified with
His story-a man who lost
So much to s war and who's
Voyage of return is full of
Adventures trying to get
Back to his beloved family;
Penelope .and Telemachus.
These days My television is
On 24 hours a day.  How
Did Homer know but then
He was only retelling a story
From  even more ancient time.
The Word of God tells us He
Is the Word and Homer was
A Child of the Word and His
Story is our story who are its
Sons and Daughters.  We are
Odd but can still find in the
Great myths the retelling of a
Common Life that is always
With us but must be retold
(Best by a campfire with our
Fellow voyagers but then Is
There not always a darkness)
Lest the magic be forgotten.
Let our words be for the fire

People who have thought deeply
Often conclude that at the root
Reality is a paradox an absurdity
This can lead to a liberating sense
Of Freedom to be foolish that our
Children embrace.to an extent that
Laughs at at our ponderous dignity
It is enough to make one almost
Take offense that our hard earned
Wisdom seems to be their birth
Right.  Its enough to make you
Love them-this brashness that is
So much more wonderful to you
That it makes you crazy in Love
I love you. I love you. I love you

Through dark clouds the sun's rays wink
As if to say peek a boo; now you see me
Now you don't..  But I am always here.
Just so it is when we pray: Thy Kingdom
Come Thy will be done.  It is in our Faith
That it is already and has always been so.
But ever the Glory is magnified and our
Heat beats quicken that the consciousness
Of Love not be diminished by it's constancy
That Love be precious as it is common still.

Better there be liars than what  they say
Be True.
Bhere be no faith than the faithful
Be deceived.
Better there be no hope than it be in what
Is not good.  Better there be no love that
Cannot make things better.
Better is not vain, better is patient. Better
Is possible.  For as God sent His Son..
Knowing on earth there is none that is
Righteous-that men are credulous and
Esteem and fear what is unknown to
Heaven. So why did He come: why will
He come again, leave the perfect place?
Because He felt our pain and knew He
Could make things better.  There is here
Nothing greater than Bette For more we
Will have to die and go to Heaven and
Someday return when the cries of God's
People weighs upon His heart enough to
Again undertake what seems less and
Forever unfinished.  Why do this--to make
Things better.   Here on earth we will take
Vows and be unfaithful, be betrothed to a
Vanity posing as Love.  We say for Better or
Worse but the worse is separation from God.
So we cry out for help,  Come Oh Lord.
Come quickly.  Great is our need as Thou
Knows-Come now and Make things Better.
Until death do us part let us know your
Charity.  Let us forgive even as forgiven.

The Unchanging said I am that I am
In that  That He is not redundant,not
Repeating yet unceasing.  No matter
That He is enduring.  As Emily D said:
I am nobody; Are you nobody 2 0 and
1 in a sense there is no other I am but
The One that can declare He is nobody
I am that I am and I am and there is
Naught beside me and that I am also.
I am the sole sun of all that is and that is
Not. I shine in the darkness and the dark
Comprehends me not. Love is all there is

Everything perfect is ever so lonely
When it is real.  We know this and
Instinctively that
is why we so rarely
Stop to see it, let it be, let it get to
Us.  This Now.  Better to let it go.
Should we wait upon art for love,
A friend from long ago and gone
To share it with? They are not here.

I complain.  Its about the past that now is not
All the losses.  Wishes flowers that never bloomed.
People, things that I should have now.  I was good-
Good as I could be: Good at heart.  Am I at fault?
Then God shares this fault.  Certainly if anyone
Could have made it better it was not me.  I am
Unconvinced that I was able and you knew it.
So help me God.  Yesterdays gone so they say-
But is it really so when the consequences are
All around you in the absence of things hoped
So you go forward into the hollow land: Speak
Oh God to my misery.  Can you give me back
All the  times mourning love-the absence of the
Present perfect that was not to be even now-
What can ever be done that takes no account
Of the loneliness and sorrow, of years in desert
Places.  I have made argument with my own
Reason   that tells me it could be worse; Change
One piece and the tower falls.  Is this not the
Best of all possible worlds.  I hear the exhortations
Peace, Peace.  I give them myself.  But still I say
Make of this world a better place.  There are I
Say consequences to waiting.   There is wisdom
To resignation but do not faith and hope point
To something better- a place where Love will be
Always and Forever.  As the old woman said:
You call this living!  Where is the life I seek? It
Began in my yesterdays and a war I would not
Could not win without your help and so I do
Complain that your delay seems fatal to love
As Job said:  I spoke as I did because I knew
Not when you asked me where was I when
...?   Speak to me Oh Lord-That I may know.
Oh God to my misery.  Can you give me back?
All that I have lost?  Ask me that I may know.
Because I kew not I spoke as I did. Still I wait.

For a while we in a model seem to see
The whole-Then it is a fragment. a piece
Of ancient pottery, a bit of trash on its
Way to the dust from which it came.
Of such is the glory of poetry: A dancing
Girl-An old woman dying.  The bird of
Paradise that never was- the phoenix
Rising from the ashes so that we may
Know all is all.  Infinite is the pathos of
Our gladness no less glorious.  Slow ...
Time is our genius to be .  For a while.

There are many virtues but each is limited
Love excepted.  Look at freedom Perfect it
Cannot be for if it was it would be able to
Trample all in its fullest allowing-so with all
Other virtue  it is not perfect or can it be made
Perfect-Only Love is perfect and only by it can
We Be perfectly guided to know that which we
Must Know for the proper governance of our lives.

Know This:
Whatever your present circumstances are
Know this: You will get Better.  Better and
Better Spiritually, Physically.  There may
Seem to be set backs but all in this world
Is merely a stage as  the Bard has said:
Signifying nothing.  A prelude fortelling
A more perfect time to come.  This is true
For all beings always and never more than
At death' door.  Defects morall and physical
Mental and spiritual are but temporary
Platforms before our Rising -All worldly
Judgements are voided.  The judge, the
Hangman and all the worldly cohort are
Confounded.  Know this then at thy core.
Believe then at the darkest hour that you
Are Saved.  All the misbegotten, the lost
The slave. the thief, the lame, the  blind
The ***** all those judged unequal and
Unworthy shall be made whole-Come
Into the light sing and dance and Glorify
God in Heaven that they were saved by
Grace; Nothing defeats the God of Love
Perfecting Perfection still we become ever
Closer to the One who is able to Love
This Is Who You Are...

Enthralled by freedom; Enchanted by
Ourselves.  Beauty was its condiment to
Lionize all of which we were co-creators
Of  and thereby honor the majesty of play.
A wondrous thing layer upon layer
We wove an artificial world into a
Masterpiece fit for kings-it was so
Much greater than the world we
Knew, filled with inspiration, and
Rich in complexity, superbly colored.
It commanded stay here!  Live here!
It can be yours forever.  But it was
Not to be.  The afternoon grew late.
The dusk of evening covered us in
Shadows.  My friend or  was it I
Said: One more act then it is all
Complete and we never need leave.
Was it I or he that said no it all must
End-Mother and Father wait and
The table is set and our play is over.
The common place always brings
Us back and we remember our duty  
Is not to the enchanted land.  Did I
Or you stay on alone I do not know.
It is but a play and as the Bard has
Said Signifies nothing the characters
Like us return to dust with all their
Pomp and glory but still we  yearn to
Play again like Twain to dream a better
Dreams; for the plays the thing...and
Though  it must end still we hear its call
For Eternal youth is its long sought goal.
Indeed it is our duty to be born again.


For Mom & Dad

Another type of vivid dream: As the experts define it
A vivid dream is one where the dreamer realizes he is
Dreaming recognizing it is not real.  This is some kind
Of logical contradiction; a paradox.  My experience was
Different.  In the dream I knew I had had a stroke and
That my walking had been impaired but in the vivid
Dream I was miraculously healed and after  tentatively
Walking I began running.realizing that my abilities
Had been fully restored then I woke slowly at first not
Realizing I had been dreaming or if it was true and I
Had been restored.  But it was not so at least in the
Post state .  This dream was was repeated a few nights  
Later and I passed into waking not knowing what
Was the truth.  I certainly did not realize in the dream
That I was dreaming-the power of the dream was in
Not knowing.but in believing the dream had been real.-
Then finding it was not at least not yet.  As an old
Friend used to say Wake up your Dreams. Some
Day we shall dream something so wonderful that God
Shall no longer ask us to say of it it was only a dream.  


As Samuel Clemens  had the mysterious Stranger say of
The evils of our history: The dream marks were always
there...

The other night I met Mark Twain
I passed the invisible frontier into  a
Large area like a deserted fairgrounds
In the darkness of the coming night.  
There were others  there, not many as
Dark figures passing when I came up
To him, as to an old acquaintance not
Seen for a while.  I said this place quivers
As between day and night- like any moment
It will change and we will not be here at all.
Just at the end of twilight it was.that He said:
Yes' but where else could we meet-That did
Seem to answer all my questions; and I woke
Knowing I had been somewhere else, a place
Between where something more and some-
Thing less can coexist in a fragile balance.
Like the attic of all beloved memories -not too
Far away to travel to when we must know still
They are, a place where they live and are real.

It is a bet against   the world-the
Authority of its reality; and all of
Life leads to a final confrontation.
Standing up with the soul's last
Breath; standing up to pain and
Declaimed with hell heaped upon
Your grave for not repenting and
Yet you stand because you must
Saying in your being that : Do what
You will I will rise again from this
Earth and in it be.  Oh death be
Not proud.  My wager stands.
I was before and after will be.
Nor shall I brag of this for I am
The commonest of men and shall
Not speak more of it when I return.
I will not forget that I am always
When I come again my Father's
Child I will not remember death
Nor believe the world that it is so

The last regret of unhappiness is that one is
Leaving that most familiar place that you
Gave your best to and failed, a first love and
You know you cannot go home again-last and
Enduring when all else is forgotten a thought
Of former times still dear not of this world are
Treasures stored in Heaven.  At the Zenith of
Life and knowing it you will have the same
Sorrow for a time and place that will never be
Again.  For you have  returned to that home
Of your youth that like all things sublime
Cannot be remembered to which you have
Returned and will return again and again till
All unknowing your journey takes you home
Forever and forever Love dying is being lost
Moment my moment Love is being reborn.
Now is a time like all times and we fellow-
Travelers are learners knowing these are the
Best and worst of times, a time like all times
We are coming to going from Love-Home