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Scott Hunter Jun 2020
When once I was a child quite young
I heard a silent song unsung.
Sweet echoes now it brings to me
Yet fruitless fruits they seem to be.
© 2003
Scott Hunter Jun 2020
I saw you twice and time again
And so I know, both now and then
That light and dark can interchange
As freely as a bow can bend
As leaves can shimmer in the sun
The same as when the world began.

Green, glistening in the sun.

That’s how I know what matters, see
Our timbers move, their branches free
They do not push or pull against
The ever-changing elements.

They simply be and let time run.

Green, glistening in the sun.
© 2004
Scott Hunter May 2020
Every day I'm born anew
I must admit there's changes few
But changes nonetheless I see
What's changed is cast as memory.

But every time I look at you
When I have changed and you have too
Both grace and beauty I still see
Sweet radiance in eternity.

So even though I try to see
Each day with new eyes, wild and free
I do but hope to see what's new
In grace's eye and beauty true.
© 2004
Scott Hunter Jun 2020
Love is not attachment.
It is not affection or passionate desire.
Love is not a longing or a warm feeling of fondness.
Nor is it an intense, wholehearted attraction.
Love cannot be these things.

Love is benevolence.
Love is giving, selfless and complete.
Love cannot be said.
Love may only be done.
Scott Hunter Jun 2020
White radiant light and spectral sun
Dark nightshade black and splitting moon.
Here’s dreaming of a fractured world
Where then’s too late and now’s too soon.

White strands float with darkness looming
Fearing what might fail to be
Elusion from that one bright true thing
Cruel circles of eternity.

But when the line of shadow’s passed
And brightness welcomes strands of white
We shall see no shadows last
They grow and fade in Nightshade’s light.
Scott Hunter May 2020
Wild and precious things adored
The worthless, stale and trite ignored
Shallow skins, inflated dreams
And egos bursting at the seams.
© 2004
Scott Hunter May 2020
The air that drifts in through my window
Has come as the wind from afar for me to breathe;
Past mountain tops and river valleys;
From the mouth of my beloved.
It has rustled the leaves of trees along the way
And has skimmed the crests of waves in vast oceans.
We breathe the world with every breath.
© 2004
Scott Hunter Jun 2020
Who can stay in this life longer than one can stay?

Beauty holds us no more than the mountain’s vista holds water to the riverbed.

As sure as springs and torrents must meander back to open sea, so must we return to our source.

— The End —