It is madness to smell a
Rose for the first time
You wish you could but
You never can Still you
Try and it seems but oh
Its a glorious madness
Takes you down down
To the roots of your soul
Where you have hidden
Poetry.  a line or two the
Grace of God dropped to
Save you from dispsair-
Give you back what was
Lost The glorious madness
Sanctified for all time. The
Essence of all first love  A
Glorious madness to persu

To all i haved loved in my
youth we shall be together
Again when all is made new

As following one who knew the end
Already in the everlasting submits
That even so there is nothing done
That can alter Truth.  The Kingdom
Come is all that really is; and all that
Is not is vain nor can take from it but
Passeth away even as to never having
Been.  To all dispute He at last is mute
For it is not by his will it is done
Recognizing that not by refutation
Is  the victory  gained.  
It is more perfect that even without
Valor the vanquished becomes the
Son because His Father has made
It so.  As one wakes from sleep and
The morning and the evening star
Do frame the day you will come to
The eternal shore knowing no other

Of fools and wise men there is  this
The Ocean says: both go down, but
They are best with a pinch of salt.
For it makes liter that which can
Rise again but sinks the rock of
Pretentious certainty to the deep.

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.

Fame; Riches; Great Ability
Why would anyone leave all
These behind? Such is the final
Journey.  To what end?  To no
End. Of such dreams are made
There must be Another place.
And those who are poor;  un-
Known; with no greatness of
Ability nor distinction of birth
Who die in their youth are given
A head start -and those so loved
Oft go before us on the greatest
Journey all--To Another place
Where life may pause but never
Ends. All the promises of God
Not yet here are  fully realized.



Where you have gone
I will follow. For Olde
Lange Syne

If the fabric of my semi pleasant semi-
Bland reality were suddenly to be ripped
Open who would be there beckoning me
A demon or a friend most likely a jester and
Would I go with him?  I do not know but if
Not would I regret it to my dying day? For
This I am certain he will not come back to
Invite me again and dear heart already I am
Torn that I a child must part my with love of
Folly.  Go knowing the folly of God is better
Than the wisdom of men and  I am growing old
What is the advantage of staying here if you are
Still young and fair and foolish elsewhere?

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

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

My country is a place where the
Great are small and the small are
Great.  It is mostly what I gained
By experience  and a little of what
I learned about from afar.  In my
Land the greatest man is  my Dad
Dad and the most loved people are
Those I have personally known.  I
Forgive them first and last for never
Having been recognized as saints.
None to my knowledge has ever held
Political office.  I have never shaken a
"Great" man's hand.  I feel I am no less
For all the stars being faraway.  I would
Not have it any other way.  My country
Is not an abstract place.  It is a known-
Remembered place.  It does not ask me
To shed another's blood nor my own as
Proof that I am patriotic nor to obey the
President or a general who says he knows
What is right and I should do to be free.
I voluntarily give my love-not my blood
My country is a fresh green place that is
Full of Gods perfume from the flowered
Meadows where the river valleys meet a
Sunlit morning sea where I first met all
And the great stars never spoke  but to
Wish us all well because He is kind and
Most heavenly is this my Fatherland.  In
My country where he has hidden charity.



I  believe it was Abraham Lincoln who said: If God
Did not love the common man why did he make so
Many of them

...Are you nobody too?  Emily Dickenson


There are no common people-just people and
maybe some a little less just. but who am I to
Judge?
.

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

It is insatiable the desire to know
Nothingness; to comprehend it;
Taste it, smell it but it defies all
Frantic effort, voracious appetite.
For it is nothing; has already given
It's everything and has nothing left
To give.  It inhabits all things it is
Their holiness; and to know this
Is to let it be.  Walk hand in hand
Feel its closeness without and with
In.  To know paradise is ours is a gift
For where nothing is we need not yet
Have all by grace been given  Ojala!

It is not what you think
It is a new dance,  It happens
In another place.  You see
Something you want but you
Are hurried on.  The song is
Mute, of memories made
No rhyme or reason.  Free.
It cannot be remembered
Grace and perfection are lost
Sought again.  I see a pouting
Face oh so cute-she is calling
Me - says  come you can-
Come and dance with me

The cliche is like a ringing bell that must
Be dying before it can be heard again
Ever ringing unto itself so gaining by
Its echo newness by being forgotten.

Just before departing my former foes
Came to me exacting my promises that
I would do them no harm and ... when
I agreed on my honor that it would be
So  they give me parting gifts, things
Long sought.  We entered a dark tunnel
My friends and my beloved dog also a
Farewell gift.  We were at last heading   
Home- after an indeterminate but brief time
We emerged and as if thru dark clouds we
Were at the end of the journey.  In the
Morning light a corner of my vision was
Lit and there was a shore where children
Were happily jumping up and down in the
Ocean and I knew I was home and that is
Where my memory ended in the place of
My Dreams, my long journey finally over

All I ever lost returned to me many fold...


For My Father

We   are the echoes of those Famous
Long ago.  We are the little people
But never little to ourselves.  Born
At the end of an age we were last but
First dying.  Dysfunctional.  The last
Breath to give voice mortal -crying for
Immortality.  Crying for immortality
Not for ourselves alone but for all of
The other little people who cried out
In elegy their meaning of being lost
Unheard were  still famous long ago.

All of
our yesterdays set aflame triumphant
Whether tears or joy we were there at
The times s of our life.  Like a bridge
Spanning eternity.  Triumphant  all our
Days gone to glory is    love's tribute to
What is without compare the parade of
The days of our love; the days of our life
Gilded in their remembrance in my mind

Have you ever felt that in living
You had failed in some irredeemable
Way  Clinging to  some fundamental
Failure of body and soul-Blame God
That you have not been loved by the
One you loved with all your heart and
Still were not worthy.  Blame God.an'
Die  For He made you and in the end


You are God's failure too It is He who
Abandoned me He must not be left
Uncharged nor can He be denied justice
If He is accused He must be tried for
His crimes against humanity before
He can be sentenced to be abandoned
Too
An abandoned soul an abandoned God
God its His choice at the end of the
Road we will travel together as One
The Way of knowing Love 'n joy; or not
Knowing why we live at all.  I do not
Know if I should curse God and die or
Why I should not. if you  see me 'n not
Help me  in the troubles that drag me
To the grave with  no one I loved caring
And the One who could -doing nothing to
Change things but gave me these words 
I am telling Him I am sorry but it is how I
Feel and how He left me feeling alone,
If I speak wrongly I stand as Job and say to
God I spoke as I did because I knew not.



For Barbara My wife who first led me to Job's story
It  was Job's wife who tired of his lamenting unrelenting
tribulations  told him to: "Curse God and die"  May she
Be in Heaven where as Jesus told us none do marry...
There still we Love as we did en our better dreams

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.

We were walking in a an enchanted place
A great Cathedral like Notre Dame in its midst a
A Renaissance fair played all about us.  Crafts
People were making beautiful artizan glassware
I wanted show her all the beauty of this world but
She kept disappearing and I feared I would not
Be able to finder her but then she would reappear
Again I would try to get her to take an interest in the
Magnificent creations.  But when she looked they all
Would turne to dross.  Then she would go again I knew
Not where and my heart ached so terrible was it to lose
Her.  Then she returned the final time and I pressed  her
Beneath me and breathlessly said I Love You-  It Was
Said without aforethought from the depths of my soul.
tt was thus  I understood that My Love,is the Lord my
God  was a jealous God who was saying show Me: Your
Love.  Put no treasures before m eand I will be yours -
But lest you misunderstand it was sweet and playful to
                               The End

Out!  Out!  Out!  Have you not
Heard:  I  speak not as a partizan
Against evil; -not to remember but
To deny by not knowing to yield
To it nothing for its reason for being.
What God says no to can no more
Be on Earth than it is in Heaven-
When all else fails: Forget, Forget
The nightmare; Forget the evil
Dream; Forget death.  Live in the
Light; In the Peace that surpasses
Understanding in the Ocean of
Light not in the brief candle Dream
Again and again a better dream.

My love slips away.
Through my fingers
Around corners and
I do not see her.  Can
Not find her anymore
I cannot control my
Dreams but she will
Always be there to hear
Hear me say once again
I love you. Just things
You cannot control and
Things she cannot do Be
In the big world where she
Will always be my little
Girl.  She was there with
Me in my dream last night
Will she come again tonight
So I can tell her I love her still
I do not know but I know I will
Love her always. Till my dreaming
Stops and we are together again.


For Lis

How wonderful -becoming stronger
Soon I will forget all my care...
Yet as thru mist .a fog horn warns
It is your watch.  Be vigilant!
Some needful duty
Some charity owed to
The one I love -that I leave
Alone in pain.   Know then
You are priceless.  Let my
Lost Bliss give testament to
That Love conquers all
Nor counts heavy the cost

But speak to  again  little
One If it offend you
I will write no more
It was more than bliss
That I could  know you

All's well that ends well
We fail a hundred times
Blame it on each other
Yet each time I get up
It's because I believe
All's Well that ends well
I will believe it to the end
That it will be the Truth then
Either way if
I live and die believing it
I lived  the best life had to
Offer. The hope that Love
Will be the victor here and
In the Hereafter.  Who cannot
Say with me- my God - God of
Love Let it be Let it be. Let ...
Thy will that is done-though a
Hundred times  and more I
Tried  and failed to make it so -
An if  I die and if I wake I will
Rise because
All is wells well that ends well
And only Love that can make it so                


Make it so.  In all that passes  
Let there be at the end  Love
As a little child I  came to Love
As a little child I have. loved.
Have a little child Loved
There"s a grief yet if I wake  
I'll Rise because I believe
All that's been can be redeemed
It is a better dream than mine yet
It is my Father's gift,. My child
At the end  of life   ts Love only
Only Love -can it  be that it Is

Is and all the difference makes










m










For my mom who told me at the end
of her life she prayed before bed her
childhood prayer:  Now I lay me down
To sleep; I.f I should die before I wake
I pray the Lord  my soul to take.

Sometimes you have to travel to
The underworld to know what is-
What is ordinarily  not believable.

Early in 1974 I found myself in the
Tenderloin district of San Francisco.
This is the down and out area akin
To New York's  City's  Bowery yet
It has its own distinct character.  I
Belonged there as one of it's newest
Misabthropes.  I had checked into the Y
On Turk Street.  Early in the evening
I went out to look  ove rthe neigborhood
I went down Turk toward Market
Think it was Lyric St  that i turned on-it
Was early dark and about midway down
I came across a man going through a
Trash can.  He seemed to know what
He was doing as he kept pulling out
Sandwiches  cleanly wrapped and uneaten.
It was  as though they had been   just
Left for him.and I thought at the time well
Ar
Least I shall not starve as he offered
me one and so we got to talk a little -then
We went back to my room.as  he said
He was going to show me something
When we got there
He pulled a small transistor radio out-
It was bare of its plastic cover; and then
He turned it on and deployed a tool, I
Think a small ***** driver and began
To change the stations with it -changing
Them rapidly.  At first I could not under-
Stand but then I began to hear a sequence
A story.  It was my life with great detail.
It was fully coherent and as I listened I
Do not know how long I understood a
Deep truth that there was indeed more
Much more to the universe than was
Comprehended by my little philosophy.
My friend got up and left my room as
Soon as he had seen I understood what
He had  to shown me; I never saw him again
But-Somehow I knew the Universe had a
Secret auditor of my thoughts and knew
All I had ever done.  Magical was Reality
I knew then that life was strange and I
Was a stranger in the land and given
The gift of knowing it.  Suddenly all the
Miracles of Jesus, all that He did and what

Was done to Him seemed so much easier
To believe-even His death and His rising


But I do not want to say then my life became
Easy  A gift from the underworld has to be
Paid back Just ask the god father or President
Trump.for that matter.  It is not a panacea- that
Is a small town in Florida on the gulf.   I went
Through it once. along the coastal route  
From the  causeway the setting sun
Seemed to speak of a peace that is forever
I wanted to=
Stay but thought I had appointments to keep
-maybe I should have thought better but...
That is life sometimes it shows you somethings-
You can't understand nor the reason why- when
You cannot make proper use of them-  You get
The winning lottery ticket then you lose it.
I guess the Good Book said it best: Lean not
Unto your own understanding but trust  in  God

With your whole heart.. mind and soul an if that
Don't work you can always Give UP but that is
Not so easy either....................God Bess Us
For Still Our Advocate Lives

Something old some thing new
To thine own self be true is a not
A loud command but one evermore
Softly heard.  Do not crucify your
Self on the cross of authenticity
As if you heard some imperial
Command and that to die in pain
As if you never heard His burden
Is lite To all who hear His Call

Does the beauty in the distance
Beckon?  To what end the way?
What more is there to say?  Are
We not now in the its midst now
Awed?  Is there a wish for more
No it is that this first moment now
Now be sustained:  We are in the
Glory of the mist yet Beholding it-
Only moving on to keep it forever


This is how I remember you Lord

It is always now.  It is now that
I write and it will be now that
You read this.    It will be now
Always.  Now whether I know
It or not.  It is now simultaneous
Pardon me Dr Eiinstein every-
Where at once.  The light from
A distant star that reaches us
A million years from now left
From its unknowable time that
Was now then. Coincident and
Everywhere and no one needs
To know it but One who knows
All. Ever new ever the same.  Now
Is Gods other name-I am that I am
Come to me and be with me Now

Some where our love must be
Beginning.  If one should be-
lieve the beginning is lost yet
Forever threatened life is a de-
fensive seeking.  For what is
Lost cannot be found again re-
membering is a contradiction.
It is in real forgetting that love"s
Beginning is.  Is love worth less
Because it forgets; is forgotten
No  it is rather now to die for.
As Soloman said:  There shall
Be no remembrance of things
Past.  All is made new my love.

The Way to there-
Were on it.
If we only knew
Perhaps we do

Love and pain
Pain in Love is
Is here and there
And all  along it is
The Way...

In the terrible shadow
We made love; it was
Always our right but
Only now claimed as
Morality was disbarred
To ram the enemy's wall
Someday it would return
Proclaiming peace is re-
Stored.  Now peaceniks
beware your day is done.
Seems like only yesterday
It was them or us.  Time...

















Hidden charity

If love be only for the perfect it is not for us
For all begin their journey shall fall short still
Love exhorts us to continue for Love is always
A process-who fears falling more than loves to
Walk does not trust that love is kind. But who
Stumbles is told to rise again and to know that
Love is patient and love is kind; and whoever is
in power Let them know how be it this came to
Be.  Say not then: It is only God can Love and  
God forgive  Say yes to me who's fallen. Say
Rise dear friend take my hand for it's been given
Then shall I rise saying only by the grace of God
Am I Living  Oh adfinitum is the Love of God  to
Man; and man to God; so should our kindness be
To one another.  Grant this Oh Lord I still pray...


For my children

Before Mark Twain knew he would
Always love Becky Thatcher the boy
Sam Clemens  knew her as a just a
girl in the neighborhood  Saw her as
A fellow child jumping rope giggling
To her friends Not his  It was the same
With me when I was small- there was
A girl Pauline with pigtails and very
Shy.  We never spoke but I just knew
She very nice and proper too much so
To notice  a mutt like me Such like was
The girlhood of my wife All she gave
Me was a sketch of a girl I never met I
did not know I loved her back then but
I know it now.  I know it now.

My Dad he not  long before  he died
Made her a bright tangerine colored kind
Of hassock that when you zipped it open
Four tangerine cushions were stuffed in it
It was carefully crafted something I
Could never make and She loved it
.  It was leatherette and a a little gaudy
where has gone to I  do not know
but I think .ll find it with  her in
Heaven where  Father  took her When I
Was faraway I loved her then and I love her
Now She  was the  girl for me; now  she.s gone
  l loved when I saw her skipping rope
n my mind
So long ago
I loved her then
I love her still


For Barbara

In the brief life of our mistakes
The Lord has given us our eternity
In what was never meant to last
here there was yet justification and if
It endureth even the briefest moment
Immortal; Eternal.  Minimal yet
So plenteous they are  they that is
Sufficient to life everlasting; and as
The memory of our mistakes blazes
Unto the unremembered ashes




As by the light of the sun are we given
All of our days on earth as in heaven
For the One who made us is merciful
For by Love all that is made to endures
Endures while what passes away leaves
Us with the gift of  its time  Our time
Be merciful and thank the Lord for the
Gift of what is gone while we yet love

Strange what is heard forever echoing down
The corridors of time is the children's laughter
and a still small voice saying: Come play with
me  Come play with me again One more time".

Say what you will-vow to the almighty
Your faithfulness.  Will you keep to the
Narrow path when the whirlwind spins
You into the air-when the roiling seas
Turn you about like the merest flotsam
To be caste upon the strand fighting to
Hold the shore against swiftly retreating
Sands.  Pray do not say what you will
Do when passion comes upon you.  Did
David not know when he took his servant's
Wife and sent him away to die so he could
Have her.  Indeed it is a greater lesson than
Morality that is being told here.  It is belief
That you will always act righteously; that
Nothing can over rule your good intentions-
Make you fall into the stinking gutter where
The unworthy lie in their deserved place.
Greater indeed than the morality of plaster
Saints indeed is the lesson that there is  none
Good.  No not one.  Not one who may not
Be wracked by passion and so became
Anathema to all.  Indeed I am such a one
And wait still upon the lord for my salvation.

I am loyal to my life because it is all
I have Who I am.  So therefore despite
Its' many short comings which I have
Railed against and still will rage against  
Yet I would not sever the vital cord ever.

It is the same with my church and my country
They are my world and my universe-despite
All Vesuviuses; despite all black holes- all that
Is imagined or real that threatens the good life.
I can never say I do not wish thee anymore and
Mean it.  Such I believe is not my idea alone but
All are loyal to the same and it is rooted in the
Common love that is most plain and unadorned
By pretense and humbug sham theatrics of flag
Natives are we of that land which  is of our God
This Love it is which commands my allegiance
To this is my loyalty which I l never voluntarily
Surrender.  But not my will but thy will be done

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

We do not know what we do
Not know even that that we
Do not know it.  For might
Not some lost language
Of our infancy that we
Were born knowing but
Got covered up by disuse
Was forgot-Say a fluency
Of tonality akin to speaking
In tongues- a language of
Great power and subtlety
If we could hear it spoken
Telling us to Wake Up
We would then remember
And be transformed-cured
Of all diverse complaint
Healed of all injury.  I
Do but say such is my
Intuition that it is so and
Maybe so for all I know
A mysterious sleeping
Truth all but forgotten
May be revealed again
In its first pure light.
The beginning of All
Ever beginning, a glory
So new that it cannot be
Remembered but yet is
Always known to love.

Let us not as holy men have said
Let  our dreams of another place
Be too small.  Let the future now
Be all.  How many bridges have I
Crossed?  How much water has
Passed under?  I speak of losses
Of the death of dear ones, friends
Lovers, Mother , Father, wife and
Children ; the joys of youth, of
Places that we have lived and left.
They were never all at once but are
All buried in  their separate crypts
Buried with our tears and our youth
So the years go by and still it is another
Now more diminished by the distance
By time traveled that has yet to bring
Us home  Can we not; must we
Not in great hope imagine Now
Again and take the quantum leap
Into that experience totally new
Imagine  the eternal commingling of
All our time in an unending eternity
An All alive and still unexpiring now
In that Kingdom where God has
Stored all our treasures and promised
They would there for us when we
Come home.  This future why not
Now.  Should our hearts not yearn
For this time to come not after death
But in this life - death now overcome
Are we not all time travelers and do
We not see we are at our door.  I see
My beloved and she comes out to
Greet me.  Oh blessed day and  hour.

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.

Come
my little dreamer friend
I love you.  Do not let me
Dream alone.  Let us play
In the pleasant land and
Know all the joyful hours
that are ours.  Then let
Sleep come and take us
Weary to our bed till full
Of rest  we wake to dream
Again of our never ending
Love

My life has been so  conditioned by
Absence a longed for presence that I
Know no other and so by forfeit this
Unworthy life has shamefully become
My wretched blanket that I cling to in
Like a child standing before the storm
What is dearest is the least,and the last

A frail fragrance leads us-
The wonderful odor of the long
Gone
Carried on a vagrant breezes that
Leads us but we cannot trace them
We only know they are true; and are
Heartfelt.  They did not grow old
With us but are always in their Spring
.  Did they depart because of a
Misunderstanding; something that
Was said or unsaid?  I grieve to
Think the consequences of such
Whimsy maybe sovereign in our
Lives but then memories are such
Fragile things and still we seek on

Every breeze the scents of hope-


That we yet may follow where our
Heart leads us.  I Am ever on the  
Way to our being  together again
If there be love this is no vanity


For Rumi and Emily Who visited with me
this morn

In my father there was the  greatness
Of poetry-the poetry of greatness.
About true greatness is that it never
Is just was but is and will be.  The
Same is true of true poetry when the
Cliche is someone will hear it again as
When it was brand new and it will be
The echo heard down the corridors of
Time.  No-one speaks to all men, the
Lone man is the universal man and love
Comes again to the despised overcoming
All injury.  Greater than the greatest dreams
Realized the sun is a candle to the Father
He is gone and I shall not see his like again.

That it be not so sayeth thou the Lord to my lord.  I knoweth not what I do stayeth my hand; permit me not all that I would do if man's in humanity to man were true.  That there be somethings I may not do that all that is good be true and all that is true be good.  How then shall my children be false to me.  
The ages are mine to wear away all that is not ever lasting and if nothing else remain:
Let  Love be all that's true; and what is ever so be so even now.

I traveled through a wooded land
To a high suspension bridge that
Was only wide enough for one to
Pass.  the canyon at great depth
Above the river far below.  It was
almost freezingly cold.  I could
See a great range of misty peaks
Before me.  Then my feet seemed
No longer to completely touch the
Wood but as if being placed on a
Cushion of air compressed not
Completely down.  Then my
Aged companion said: It is the
Rising air that protect the child
Still in the womb.  Then I knew
The Truth, I should not take  the
Crown for it belonged to one not
Yet born but it was art to know.
And was for peace not for grief.

Her smile constant and genuine
As the sun.  Declared delight in
Being here just in being here.  
To be seen for this moment by
This most appreciative audience
Who seeing how lovely she is
Look happily on their child in
Fascination that such joyfulness
Should exist so unaware and so
Unaffected by the weary, sordid
World for our sake to be here.

Scripture tells me that there shall be
No remembrance of things past.Yet
I seem to remember perhaps that is
Why God gives the old the gift of
Senility that they may roam for
Yet a while where their  treasures
Are  unremembered still bright as
New Ay Take  up your cross  old
Sojourner for it brings you closer to
The end of that unbearable wait so
Soon over now to all of suffering the
End but one to the pure joy of rising
Death overcome in  forgetfulness.The
Soul washed clean is truth innocent
Its fountains are the eternal springs.

As it was  in the beginning is now...
The foolishness of God is better than
The wisdom of man...

At Last
Before death
Love life
Your life
With a love
Absolute-
The one who
Loves is greater
Than death.  You
Are that one.  Born
In mourning which
Is the prayer that
God always hears
And always answers

Perhaps some thought I never cared
But my tears were always there. Cry!
Cry them out!  ...and I did.  Long ago.
Now they are mostly gone and with
Them most those I loved most. Gone
To Him who is everywhere but is never
Seen.  My love and tears he keeps them
There where they are still.  Keeps them
My memories green like a velvet moss
That grows in the heart where all that's
Dear on earth graces the halls of heaven.
When all our tears are shed we will all be
Together with those we have loved again.

I read them as a child.  Sentimental for a far off time
Softened by the long passage  areseen thru the mists
Longing for a lost innocence.  Now that time of my
Youth is as far a way as the time of Riley's old farm
Tales was from him-and it kind of seems they rest in
A place where we are forever young that we loved-
But never quite knew how much until they are gone
Calling forth tears to make glisten all our memories


A tribute to James Whitcomb Riley, The "Indiana Bard"