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.

My soul what you will is lost
In obscurity.  If the means
That are best belong to the
Strong you know I am weak
But not yet can I be still. I
Am ignorant yet I speak:
Because I cannot escape nor
Embrace this unknowing.
I would know better but  I
Am not patient.  I stumble
In the dark. I curse;  I can
Not find the candle quickly
Enough.  But there is this:
In the darkness I know there
Is one greater than I am who
Knows what I need that in
His acceptance of me is my
Salvation-that the present
Darkness and distress shall
Not prevent His making of
It all the promised grace of
Love-making right my soul.

The fact that history may ever be a burlesque leaves villains space to make themselves likeable disguised as they are in our very own neighborhood Rubes and so winsome by a default predisposition for the merely familiar whereas the superior is merely strange.  It is an almost endearing flaw.

I am a sometimes sailor with many
Ports of call.  I am a dreamer and
I go where I go.  There  are only
Dreams on my itinerary- some
More vivid; some I like not at all
Some bright are not my type and
Some though dim are very rosey.

Between my voyages I know not
No thought and when I wake I
Have no idea where I've been or
If any time has passed.  I am dead.
Then I dream again waking from
The deepest sleep.  That's the way
It is.  Nothing lasts but the trip it-
Self.  I cannot count how many
Times I have died and rose again.
As the old woman said: You call
This living!  It is a sham.  To which
I reply a sham for you my darling
And most becoming.  She makes
No answer but I  I see the a twinkle
In her eye and that for me is good
Enough; Makes all the difference.

My friend was depressed and
He had good reason to be
I came at him with some very
Pretty arguments that things
Were not quite so bad as that.
He listened quietly as he drank
When I finished he said that is
All very fine but it is just after
All only a thought of mind.
And I knew it was so.  What
After all do all our fine words
Amount to?  Can they change
Great injuries and make them
Seem gracious and beautiful.
Can we live in a perfect world
Where we are not, may not
Really be.  I thought of those
Friends of Job who gave him
Good counsel but spoke not
Understanding that it was
Not wisdom that was wanted
But the light of knowing what
They did not know- Joy actual.
wiithout which wisdom remains
In darkness; and is meaningless.
There is a new paradigm, that
Quantum leap into another
Experience that is not known
Before it is known.  In that place
We must stand Like Job knowing
That He did not Know pleading
Ignorance before the whirlwind
God made manifest is known.
Till then it is all only a thought
Of mind.  My friend you were
Right and I a fool unknowing

For my friend Charlie.

Forgetting is ever so much better than any
Sword or mournful requiem for slaying
Evil,  And there is much I would forget
But the sweet is so oft one right beside
Or fore and aft the  bitter of it's not easy
To do; as one calls to mind the other- So
Is quite perplexing and unpleasant long to
Contemplate upon -yielding little if any
Fruit.  Then I do not know how  I just do
Stop thinking about it, for a while anyway

Oh such a pompous ruckus
Would not silence be better?
Sour grapes you say; maybe so
But A little quiet is all I ask.
A little wine?  well maybe just
A little.    How was it?  Good.
Maybe just a little more.  Now?
Good .  So no sour grapes?  I
Say sour grapes be ******. This
Is wine.  Let me have some more.
Good stuff this.  I think now I can
Hear  His song...His  Truth is Marching
On and i hear my soul Going with Him
And I will listen until ... stillness speaks
His  name...for there is no other I hear
And I shall make a joyful noise unto Him
Wherefore Now I am singing His Song
Is it not for His Glory that I am strong
I can hear I will Hear  I can sing I will
Sing a song that has no end to my Love

For Old  41. and the People of Navisota
who saw him pass on the train 12.6.2018

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

In the timeless dark waiting
One awakes and His first wish
To know the kind king who rules
Where he may reside where love
Is Sovereign over all.  He sees it
Not nor yet feels only that it is true
A skeleton of logic, a tautology of
Being that where he is all is good
The seed of imdination that even if
Forget still is.and still lives in the
Light that which only perceives its
Shadow. Have you not heard spoken
The Word: "Forgive them they know
not what they do"  For there is beneath
The very beast the child that was and
Still is.  More than this I say that if the
Great world be evil it is but a sham and
Illusion that perishes before the Truth

I heard my love cry back to me what she
Could not on  this earth from heavenward
These fading words I heard:" I love you I
Love you always have and always will"
And as she passed beyond the surly bonds
Broke free from chains with which the the
The world claims the right to rule over all
Our earth.  I called to her my voice rising
On the summer air; I am coming.  Coming
Quickly, L   will not be left behind.  Sweeter
Is death than life without your love I said.
And faintly ever so faintly came her reply:
"Now you understand why I had to leave."
My lord I cried I am ready.  Where she goes
I will follow wherever my love leads me.
      Where thou got I will go

Yet Lord there is a better way and while there
Is still time I will still put my my trust in thee
That It  still can be on earth as it is in heaven
Let it be soon Lord I feel a bitter end is near
Is now not the time for your saving grace?  For
Your Charity to be poured out on our suffering?
To let your Salvation to cleanse us of our sins?



rity

Let me tell you about God
Sure he is a lover of  Peace
Loves gentleness;  wants us
To be joyful in His abundant
Gifts, but make no mistake
When He breaks a man he
Breaks him and he can He
Saves only the good part.
The rest he   throws away
And it is likely the greater
Part of the  treacherous; the
Hypocrite and the  braggart
The  deceivers the lovers of
War and such like.  Sure
He is patient and slow to be
Wrathful but you would be
Wrong to think He is weak
Afraid to let you know who
Is boss in case of forgetting
He said: Vengeance is mine
And I know He meant it too.
So remember that the next
Time you meet some fellow
Wearing love beads or a girl
With Flowers in her hair.

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

In the evening twilight the  sounds of the
Village are heard from far and wide as echoes
Of an  eternal yesterday fragments of  play at
At the end of a day.  Like sparks before the
Coming dark so clear so faraway speaking to
The Heart of a forever loneliness for what was
Golden-now  has passed; a child's summers day

For my sister Sue Eileen on her birthday with  Love
David

Am  i more or less
There is a less that is more
Than I will ever know and
A more that is less than all
i am...So be of Good Cheer
With nothing to fear that will
Not wait till next year that is
Only a thought of  mind walking
Upon a lonely shore thinking of
You again and again. Once more


For Lissa

The instant you know God
You will realize that all-
Every one else even the
Creatures know as if they
Were only waiting for you.
The last shall be first and
The first shall be last.  The
Shepherd is behind the
Sheep.  Consider this: to
Be in the kingdom is to
Be with all that you love
Even all that you have
Been charged to love.
The kingdom will always
Be completed with you
In our sleep we dream
Of coming home, to
Wake here where we
Have lost no sheep.
I have known this place
But still I ask why does
The eternal moment not
Last but ecstasy seems to
Be born dying, now almost
Forgot like the night of the
Shooting stars in Canaan
We knew not that dying
We were being born again.



For Barbara

It is an odd thing about misunderstandings odd I say
Because they never break even, almost never get re-
Solved can only be forgot and that's hard to do.
Think on it and what's to do;  take the blame 'n you
Might be wrong and be coldly stung again 'n if your
Not to blame can saying your sorry ever help.  No
It takes grace and about that what can be known and
Not be smart  alecky.  No, misunderstanding is a hard
Nut to crack and hard to forget and never remember
Again and if you do remember well there is no sense
In that now than there was before.  So I may be wrong
but I'll say it anyway: Forget me not my old friends ...


With inspiration from Robert Frost and Edith Wharton

I could not get back He said
It was at the bus stop and he
was not dressed in red but I
Knew he was Santa even if he
Looked to be be a common
***.  He said he had given
All, every he had even his
Means to get back home, this
Last to some poor child who
Needed it-and he got stuck
Here and admitted he had
Taken to drink to keep up his
Spirits but that it did not work
Well for him he said with tears
In his eyes.  I gave him all my
Change and said God Bless and
He said the same to me- it was
Not much but it seemed to make
Him happy. As he boarded the bus
I told the girl at my side: That is
The real Santa Claus, but I do not
Think she believed me.  Seems kids
Grow up so fast these days, don't
Believe nothing they can't under-
Stand; and I can't say as I blame
Them.  What is a Santa without
Presents even if he has already
Given everything away.  Anyway
If you see him tell him I remember
Him and still miss him and I hope
He got home because its Christmas
Time again and there are some little
Ones who still believe in Him.

For   Charlie    Remembering  Santa Cruz
Wishing Everyone a Merry Christmas& a Happy New Year

Is Always the Presence for which there is no need of proof
The past and future are speculative.  What can we know of
Unremembered times-surely we shall not find proof there--
Theories theories why should we place in any of these rather
God is or is not known to be by our experience of Him Now.

Have you ever lost someone you loved who was  such a constant
Like water likedair that you took them for granted,  What a loss
It is.  The heart cries out this cannot be but there it is great grief.

Think on this now -this constant now this always now this all now.
We take for granted that we will always wake up to it and so can
Accept the gift of sleep that it will be there for us upon awakening.

Is this now so humble not our experience  and proof of God.
Is not other and it is the beginning and the end all our knowing.

Watch a silver dolphin leap from the sea like the first word
The it plunges back into the water with barely splash The
Alpa and the Omega.  Duration  Time and Space are now in
The One  A pod surfaces leaps and reveals a language  that
Is music and  ist he song  that bridges time and place making
One a diversity that is present - is again dissolved again into ...

NOW The N is silent ..The O is silent ...the W is silent...

History is ever a relocation of all we
Knew before- know now then felt we
Must demonstrate-that we do know
What we always knew-Of such are
Civilizations.  But there is a riddle in
That knowing itself that it contains a
Paradox-that embraces its antithesis
That we do not know; cannot know
Ever.  For we are the nothing of the
Universe-less than dust that is every
Where.  Tell me this ye wise men does
The horizon fall below or rise above the
Sphere of your line of sight.  There must
Be another place as my friend the dream
Librarian said to me in honest puzzlement


For Eddy-you were right
...

A is not B
Being A excludes  being B
But with God all things are possible
Therefore  A and B can be One

A lonely woman meets a lonely man
In some imagined universe
They don't give a **** if they are
Right so long as they are not alone
But only if mutually exclusive.

A friend of mine said of my Magnum
Opus: Its a thought of mind.Indeed.
All Things are-at the atomic level
There is no difference between yes and no
And are not all things made up of atoms
Thoughts of mind if you will -stuff and
Nonsense as they say: A mind must be
Free What if science is filled with non-
Sequiturs, a little wee play must not be
Condemned; consistency is the bain of
Small minds so we must be the antithesis
Oh Father God would you **** your
Children; crucify them for their illogic
It is all but  but a little pretense
Wee play like the goat footed balloon
Man.  Father are

you angry that your poor
Child Science is fill of nonsense.  Someday
You may tear the universe up like a page,
A thought of mind but by then we, all
Your wee children will be home again.
Father oh Father let us love Thee
Play with us and do not be mad
We did not mean to be so bad.

There is something of Perfection in
Improvisation and something of
Free association in perfection of.  
Beauty in the eye of the beholder

To me the child's letters speak  
With meanings more divine
Than the most polished words
Do we not with our heart first
Make music yet never hear it.

God said it is a dream
And I Am the Dream
Then man the one He
Made in His own image
Said A Dream What is
A Dream?  I shall find
Out-Then after using
All his reason; his tools
His science ;and coming
Up with many enigmatic
Arcane and complex ideas,
Formulations made up of
Pride, vanity and bestowing
A great sense of superiority
Over his cowed and ignorant
Fellows and to be fair paid for
with much mental labor and
Sleepless night and much
Oppression of others thru
Ages and ages till at last
He declares I have got it,
Almost got it as he falls
On his bed sick of all his
doings and there hears
A still small voice, a child's
That He heard long ago in
His youth: "It is only a dream
A dream  and I  the  Dreamer

As Mark Twain said in his auto-
Biography: "It is mostly true"
Sam Clemens said it all in the
"Mysterious Stranger"

What sparkles at night is not seen
In the full light of day- the knowing
Of mystery is more wonder ever than
Solution.  How can two mutually ex-
Simultaneously occur yet this is the
Comm0n substance of reality-this
This...This is the wisdom i seek knowing
That with much wisdom comes much
Sorrow.  But in it is an honest work
Even the contemplation of God; and
One does not so much abandon the
Quest for knowledge but falls at last
Into the sleep of the just even unto the
Peace of acceptance of the unknowing
To awake again in the morning to that
to that new heaven and new earth
that makes glad the heart of the child

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

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.

Upon entering the microscopic
World one does not immediately
Forget what it is to walk a mile
But when there is no knowable
Way back one soon looks with
Greater interest on what there is
To notice-a whole other world.
How you got there is a mystery;
How you will  ever leave another
Mystery.  This too shall pass and
Every new thing is the beginning
and the end of the love for what is.
Now passes thru what now is.

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

Find perfect patience now
What more is their to seek
To gild the lily or not?  What
Is it worth to praise humble
Virtue-The placid lake is all
That needs be..  Peace is its
Own reward but then all the
Quieted wishes answered.the
Promised Child is born but as
All Knows there is trouble in the
Beginning and so once again
Patience, the sea of calm is the
Answer that can wait forever
But never needs to.  War, pain
Plague and famine will be forgot. 
 For they teach that Patience-
Perfect Patience is all that's ever
Needed and the lesson learned is worth
The pain.  The brides maid is satisfied
With her role needs nothing more
Seeks not the groom for herself
But to such a one Love will come.
Patience is always with us and there
Is in all of us a place for her to come
We need only ask that she be with us
Patience is the happiness equal to  any
Reward  Overcomes any sorrow

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..

I close my eyes in prayer
I hear the wind whipping about
It is a winter day  in the South
I imagine snowy wastes about
I would meet if I went out but
They are real because there is
No one here or there I know
Is is cold aloneness that I am
The Season's Spirit seems to
Say: Ha thought you could get
Away.  See its not so easy even
In the deep South I will have my.
Say.  Was it Twain or Frost who
Said: My coldest Winter was one
Summer I spent in San Francisco
It is an appointment in Samara ; the
Spring of hope-the winter of despair


It was Twain
Title of John O'Hara's Book and Preface fable
**Dickens opening paragraph Tale of Two Cities
:

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.

At first we did not know that being
Good would feel so glorious but
Being so conditioned we looked
For the reward and in doing so
Something was lost of the
Original impulse so freely
Conceived; and the the reward
worked against the virtue
and the virtue against the reward
Both being diminished until the
Only thing that was left was the law
A weight against freedom that
Ever inspires rebellion for when
Freedom is lost virtue is dead.

For time to exist can only mean
That Love can be born again.

As if there were folds in a seam
A curtain drawn out to its fullest
Extent so does life present itself
That afterwards there are no
Corroboration or explanations
For what one clearly remembers
Clearly of things so unlikely as
To be impossible.  Yet they have
Happened; and I believe not to
Me alone.  Perhaps you too are
Mumm because it seems so un-
Seemly to speak about a silence.
That you plainly heard calling

Our first love to the known being
Of the unknown Father that gives
Us the life that first perceives  light
Where I come to my being needy
Helpless with desires crying to be.
Be gratified hoping someone will
Hear that one is there for me, the
One we call Our Mother.  She is
Our first love that defines in its  
Origins and in its essence what
We mean by love, the deep and
Abiding Gratitude to that being
Kindness incarnate come to us in
Our need from the unknowable
Father of whom she is His word.

In another room next to mine
Tap tap tap tap tap tap and
Back again in a pitter patter
Rhythm on the floor I can hear
Her life  She is bright vibrant
Emphatic all alone-I know her
Spirit.  She is what has right
To be in my blood.  She is in
The room next to mine.  Soon
I will go to her.  She will teach
Me there once again what it is
To be a child to play again in
The  ellyisian fields of forever.


For Lysa remembering Santa Cruz

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.

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.

The first place people were
Ever called Christians but
That Antioch was in Syria
My Antioch was in Yellow
Springs Ohio.  It was founded
By Horace Mann who has
Been given the title Father of
American  publiceducation.  He is
Best known to many for saying
"Be ashamed
To die until you have won
Some victory for humanity"  
It does seem to me that if
shame alone could keep one
From dying it would be highly
Prized and nobody would have
To die any more so that they we
As allll probably can truthfully
Summon up an adequate supply
of the product  in our biography
But come to think of it I believe
Horace Mann was a Christian
Of some type and He probably
Knew it-was way to keep us alive
In default of the great act which
May prove to be beyond our
Capacities, a perverse blessing
You might say but Antioch is a
Special place-A few years ago
It got resurrected and who can
Say that Horace Mann and may-
Be even shame had no part.  Any-
Way I can claim it as my alma
Mater, a still living place and
I did meet Billy Graham there
Well actually it was on an ex-
cursion to Indiana but that is
Another story I'll leave for later.

I am climbing
The tallest mountain
Because I want to be there-
Where there is no mountain
I am climbing still to where
There is no mountain only
Air.  Then soaring higher
Because still I am not there
Where I can see the green
Earth as it is in heaven
Then if I fall say I fell in
Love.  I am climbing still
Climbing in the air.

What I would not give to see you
One more time just as you were
In Berkeley but we both know
That would not be enough.
Play the flute for me when
I  Am gone

For Elizabeth

When I was a young man
A long time ago I was a
Student intern sent to
Brooklyn Methodist Home
For the aged to learn what
Ever I could.  A guest with
No specific mission I set
Out to learn what it was
Old folks had to say their
Lives had gained specially
Wisdom-a brazen quest.
Among the old I visited
Two ladies stand out in my
Memory.  One was a lady
in her eighties and bed-
Ridden.  She talked to
People and in places I
I could not see or hear
They had lived with her
In a New York that was no
More; had passed away
More than seventy years
Ago.  She looked out upon
Streets of playing children
Was one of them laughing
and shouting.  She saw and
Heard all clearly  and to
Her her childhood friends
Were as real to her as she
To them.  The other woman
Was a widow of a minister
In her eighties as well.  She
Was alert and most proper.
She played the piano for the
Able residents before dinner-
A hymnal piecece no doubt
The dining room was quite
Elegant with linnen table-
Cloths and proper silver
And crystal, it was that sort
Of place   I called upon her
With my subject saying
Can you tell me what you
learned about life by be
Coming old.  She hesitated
but only a moment taken
aback by frowardness I
Suppose then she said:
"Lean not to your own
Understanding but trust
In the Lord with your whole
Heart, Mind and soul"  A
Quote from the Book of
Proverbs she said but she
Had made it her own.  I
Can see her yet in her dignity
Her firm  hold in our life.
The other lady I cannot see
But it seems I can see and
Hear those children playing
On those streets of long ago
And I know each gave me some-
Thing more precious than gold
God can make all things new
Beyond our understanding
Wonderful  to the wisest.

If we live in our dreams and hopes with
A strand of faith that someday all will
Be realized, while in our day to day
Life we feel we must pretend that such
Thoughts are are not who we truly are
Because that would estrange us from the
World of normalcy and convention, with
A price to pay.   Is it not reasonable, even
Yet to say desirable perhaps but always
Inevitable that one or the other of our-
Selves must needs die; and in the end it
Will not be a hard choice -to choose life
Knowing with God all things most real
That are for our salvation will be done.
Come He has said my burden is lite.
He who makes all things new knows:
In him who believes it is the old world
That is dying and a new world is  being
Born  and we nearer to God do rejoice

Any path would I take that you showed me love along and promised there was more to come.   What would tribulations be to me on that journey.  Yet not every guide conducts us forever.    And to persist for the sake of a mistaken loyalty,  to betray grace by meritorious  abnegation  is to be led astray.   It is not Love's way nor Charity what is not freely given. (to be continued)

There is hidden charity.
Where?
Where you think there is none.
Why it is here you mean?

Just so.
But if it is so Why is there so
Much sorrow?
Blessed are the poor...
Ha how can that be; if it
Were so all would wish to be
Poor.
It is great mystery is it not?
He said: My burden is lite
Unpack your goods it is
Almost Summer.  Let us
Rest beneath that tree.
See it labors not, has not
Nor wants more yet how
Great it grows.

The warriors of the day fight against the
Dying of the the light turning into ghosts
Of remembrance and nothing more. Yet a
A remnant remains .  The warriors of the
Darkness they to must yield to the coming
Morn but a remnant of all remains in our
Memory to foreshadows the knowing that
Nothing is more constant than change and.
All enmity is futile because all that we can-
Will remember wii be the treasures that are
Stored in heaven; and when we clearly see
The tales told by an idiot we will laugh like
The lover who watches his children play and
Would see them playon forever in his sight.r days
So at the end of our days we shall see God  even
As He now sees us.  With Love in all our ways

There are threads of contradiction; alternative
Voices cry and whisper protesting they are not
Heard and go to their unquiet grave still saying
They have rights too and should be allowed -by
The poet written. Why won't they just shut up;
Bawling infants, my own crying babes?  Because
They must be, coddled, rocked and sung to sleep
And so I tell them with truth that they are loved
That their needs are heard; their voices understood
Are woven into the strands that of every song -are
The silence,  the golden silence that makes visible
The Voice of Love that shall be heard forever more

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.