Beware of the urge to hide your face,
from the forces of manipulation;
Mere perception is often misguided,
in camouflaged transformation.

Where sloping canyons breed epiphanies,
revealing a haphazard gathering of trends;
Of the soulful apparitions' revelations,
conquered triumphantly toward gallant ends.

So hearken forth with feigned delight,
breaking boundaries of earthly fences;
While frivolous fables diminish emotions,
of carelessly unmasked pretenses.

Each quest for authenticity surpasses,
a road through the canyon's harbors;
Outwardly disguised in chaste aura,
as arrogance rages onto placid shores.

When life's choices appear eclectic,
in random complacency borne of desire;
Then unmask the will of silent torment,
while in a trance one walks through fire.

The church was crowded with lonely souls,
while winds swept through its stained-glass windows;
An uneasy fog seemed to engulf the faithful,
as flickering candles emitted an eerie glow.

The altar dressed entirely in sacred white,
now completely enveloped in the misty haze;
Each penitent watched as outside grew dark,
an oncoming sign of the near-evening's phase.

While asking the Lord in His generosity,
to bless everyone and keep them safe;
The carillons began ringing a holy chime,
emanating peace throughout this saintly place.

Each person then felt like a child of God,
songs of angels flowed through the room;
When the whole congregation joyfully joined,
reaffirming their vows as sweet voices in tune.

What a gift to share in the mystical ways,
of the blessed Lord and His most humble flock;
Each soulful connection between God and mankind,
will remain strong and steadfast as a ticking clock.

We seek benediction when our hope seems lost,
yet we're promised the world won't implode;
The path to heaven shall awaken our hearts,
with new-found courage to travel His honored road.

Suffering through a tragic break,
knowing inside what was at stake;
Still believing in the mighty cause,
despite the handwriting on the walls.

The callousness of crass design,
from anguished heart and muted mind;
Against each fear we must confess,
in promising words we should profess.

With every piece of shattered dreams,
all wrapped up in plans and schemes;
Blanketing the world with colors pale,
and desiring only to tip the scale.

An atmosphere that doth proclaim,
the rebounding spirit of the game;
When love's doled out in tiny pieces,
a heartbeat swells then quickly ceases.

Forever lonely we all shall live,
with nothing left to borrow or give;
Regret and sorrow infuse our days,
as charity's tossed and blown away.

These times apart seem such a strain,
a heartfelt emotional loss;
But now we must think of the common good,
and fulfill a worthwhile cause.

People wracked with pain and suffering,
an ominous sign for retreat;
Yet just when we most need intimacy,
this intensity bears repeating.

The smartest move is not to move,
and remain inside for awhile;
We'll see one another soon enough,
when powerful sources quash the fire.

Still our minds take a daily route,
through webs of life's complexities;
And wonderment will fill the ache,
if hope can set our spirits free.

Wherever light dispels the hate,
our poems rhyme at heaven's gate;
We seek the spirit of the night,
to cast away our painful plight.

With Jesus dying for our sins,
His holy wounds a sacred glimpse;
Of fateful death upon the Cross,
to build up hopes despite our loss.

Yet frightened notions may exist,
in minds and souls that still persist;
To turn away from sacrificial love,
and angels flying with the Dove.

Surrender toward the saintly sphere,
where songs are sung and lilies appear;
The glow of light shines into hearts,
which Christ will never tear apart.

Through callous and repressive stand,
life's bitter flow in grains of sand;
Releases powers that project,
their horrid schemes without regret.

In days of watching the hourglass,
the soul's intent is put to rest;
With memories of conscious will,
which carry missives to the hill.

And on that mountain in the sky,
are sandy peaks from which they fly;
Those denizens of humor dim,
in caricature of fading whim.

We pilot through the wanton ways,
that settle scores in master plays;
But when the evening calls our bluff,
all profits gained are not enough.

Come to where heather-strewn meadows lie,
and valleys deep with lake-water sigh--
Villages filled with bonny lads and lasses,
where church bells ring out to soothe the masses.

Climbing over steep hills of mossy green,
watching a rugged horseman gather his team--
Winding down earthen paths of beauty foreseen,
where crisp rains fall softly--swift and clean.

Stone cottages built for the sturdy life,
flower-boxes under windows settling strife--
Of careworn faces in the kitchens and fields,
who bring crops of fruit which generously yield.

It's just a small sample of what I know,
about Scotland, its castles, and legends of old--
One day I'll be sailing across the sea,
where ancestors' spirits run wild and free !