Who passed the night with silent pining?
A face hidden from moonlit sight,
Twas I the hunter said at last and sighed,
My only prey has taken flight.
She fled into the brambled thrall,
I ne'er but glimpsed her pale white face,
And since that night I've wept within this wood,
'Tis become my solitary place.
My quiver lost its missles long ago,
This sacred bow remains unstrung,
The cold now creeps like moss on trees,
And her song is yet to be sung.
My hair is white my face is grey,
These peircing eyes now dim,
I sometime catch her gentle scent,
Perhaps its just my foolish whim.
But O' that once and once again to hunt,
Her wiles seducing all my heart,
And I pursuing yet pursued by love,
Once again to draw the soul apart.
By S. E. Johnson copyright 2012
A close and crowded world I find,
And all its citizens are blind,
They only see a single face,
Their own that occupies this place.
No other person can they see,
No stranger stranded, even me,
Beyond the darkness of each hedge,
They share no creed they give no pledge.
A box I hold within my hand,
Brought thoughtfully into this land,
And 'neath its lid a shimmering pool,
Where searchers find a sacred rule,
Put others first reflected plain,
Learn their face and yes, their name,
For every face is meant to be read,
The living first and then the dead.
Alas, a few peered 'neath the lid,
While others eyes remained well hid,
So slowly closed I my precious cask,
And none there were who cared to ask.
Where did you find this magic box,
And has it not some chains and locks,
To keep inside such treasure horde,
Such wealth is more than we can afford.
A close and crowded world I found,
And all its citizens were bound,
They only saw a single face,
Their own within an empty place.
I mended my nets and cast them out,
The sea was full of fishes,
I pulled in a drought of silver fins,
Beyond my fondest wishes.
Had I not mended my wounded nets,
To home I might have come bare,
My children would go to bed hungry,
And my wife would say a prayer.
How wisely did I use my time,
Though some may think it odd,
That an old and weary fisherman,
Would listen to his God.
For twas He who bid me take the time,
To sew the broken line,
And He who sent the drought of fish,
Would send to me this sign.
My mended nets will yield me strength,
As God gives great increase,
And now I know how mercy works,
Which gives this old fisherman peace.
I am counted as grass,
The leaf on the bough,
the scattering of seeds,
The earth and the plow.
The Lord of our years
The siphon of time,
has counted out days,
Both yours and mine.
My fields has he set,
with a swiftness of flame,
ashes to ashes,
And nothing the same.
Is enough but a number,
the counting of days,
The Lord of the harvest
a man justly obeys.
The shell is now empty,
his skin but a rag,
I pass by the grave,
its marked by a flag.
The Lord of our years
a master of age,
Has doled out his judgment,
and given his wage.
I died and lay within the dust,
Ages passed as ages must,
When eons ceased I woke anew,
And brought my visions back to you.
I told you of the endless rains,
Across the endless barren plains,
Once long ago the earth was new,
Its ancient days I spoke to you.
Wide eyed in death I saw the sun,
Until I was the only one,
The world became another land,
I held its dust within my hand.
The circle of my timely death,
Breath upon my fetid breath,
Silent there transposed my fast,
The end of time had come at last.
I died again for moments then,
Dreamed of shadows and of men,
Ages come as ages do,
Yet every word I spoke is true.
Everything that man had done,
Into the finite dust was spun,
And on and on I repose in state,
Returning here my endless fate.
I fell to earth I know not why,
But somewhere once I knew the sky,
I knew the sky and knew it well,
But that was long before I fell.
The place I knew was velvet black,
And if I could I would go back,
To where I once was like a star,
I would go back but its too far.
Today I'm just a shiny stone,
Upon the shore and all alone,
All alone and shiny bright,
A stone to catch the evening light.
From where I fell above the sky,
I see the trailing comets fly,
The countless stars, the velvet night,
And I a stone to catch the light.
There are no days too dark,
Light cannot filter through,
When its too hard to face the truth,
Behind the clouds the sky is blue.
When tears are all you know,
You can always wipe them dry,
They will not last forever,
The storm will soon pass by.
When life's music is a sad lament,
The words are too hard to sing,
There's a melody that resonates,
When plucked upon each string.
When all the "whys" go unanswered,
You can always ask the "whens",
As the curtains open wide for you,
And you've said your last amens.
In the stillness of your solitude,
You are never all alone,
When you've tossed upon your bed,
And your pillow is a stone.
There's a reason for the moment,
There's a candle for the dark,
There's a fountain for the thirsty,
And a page to leave your mark.
The cold and weary feeling,
Will give way to peace and rest,
At the crossing of the narrows,
And the final human test.
To stand and breathe the sweetness,
Will reward the vigilant soul,
At the passing of the torches,
When the lost have reached the goal.