When while a day goes quietly the nigh

soft hearts may ponder a delicate noon-

time pleasure. That is the moment inside

a dream slow to respond, yet urgency

calls upon a name to satisfy sweet

melody, a caress, play, we digress.

For when might anyone ask forgiveness

upon simple words, golden, a sparkle

of intent defines passing encounters.

Each streaming ray of hope dances our brows

well toward jest’s enigmatic interlude.

-patience beckons a rare emotion served-

When then we bask in the moonlight of love

we know surely, our lives are drawn above.

Shrouds veil our rise within the morning’s mist,

like pure raindrops suspended in cool air

we are reminded certain moments missed

will walk our day, must we believe it fair?

The mind, a wandering vessel of hope

battles sea worthy giants of despair

with each walk, we tangle a fierce strung rope

that clings to every fiber; hanging there.

We want to believe our hearts are so true

to love, to have compassion, a spirit

in happiness can achieve such sky blue

authority upon our angst’s regret.

With human dignity we walk in shrouds

of mediocrity whilst He sweeps clouds

Wake up to another morning in sunlight brilliance

look about a world of passion, beauty, resilience.

~

The news, what we read; our beautiful children too,

can we not forget the one hundred and thirty two,

~

kids, smiling faces with pure innocence abound,

they knew childlike pain, seeing upheaval all around,

~

their villages, their homeland, filled with a political strife,

suggested each one, each kind soul, compassion in life.

~

Yet, the saddest part of any mindless tragedy is the possibility,

the notion that what in future days held welcome opportunity

~

could be destroyed by the swift arm of pure evil mindset,

this hateful world must begin to leave us certainly upset,

~

Quell that apathy, and rise above our human monotony,

of believing the horrors are a globe apart, so far away.

~

In Pakistan, we stopped human life from exploring their dreams,

while across the bay in Cuba rhetoric said welcome to a regime,

~

In your home and ours, in everyone’s world the breathing slows,

in the elegance of natural cause, not striking down, insidious blows,

~

of torture … power is such a menacing tool so ill-met with malice,

we are all guilty of seeking ownership, claim of that sacred chalice.

_

Can we be a society, a nation, a planet of people perhaps that may cease,

to extinguish our hopes, our dreams, and wait, open our arms toward peace.

Well look at the sky in all Her wonder

Yes, it is She that speaks with brilliance

Send waves of warmth and peace to each other

Lightens the load of worry’s ignorance.

Pause, step away from society’s ills,

Caustic judgments that temper true our soul

Imagine skyrockets; creative thrills

To sweep away fears to which we enroll.

On the horizon’s violent challenge

Speak a dialogue, suggest a quiet

Respite to an insane world’s revenge;

That hindrance, humanity desperate.

Bask in Nature’s beauty so powerful

While blinds all mechanics artificial.

A train,
symbolic in motion,
always moving forward,
cutting through the horizon,
occasional vanish in the wood,
then reappearing like clockwork,
we know we can wait on the other side,
the tracks indicate all possibility,
we wait in confidence,
we anticipate the beauty of the roaring maching
slicing through the forest,
designing an historic artistry
of our landscape,
how we exist,
we live and communicate together,
waiting for the trains to arrive.
I find the train's roar similar to my
human condition,
who I am and how I operate
depends upon an open field,
an opportunity to flourish amongst the
leaves and trees, the brick and mortar,
the common secrecies that lie beneath our eyes,
I can watch for my next move,
knowing there is always a possibility that
lies before my soul.
~
What happened that cool winter day,
when the caverns that support our travel,
when the gravel and strength, man-made,
began to crumble.
What happens when suddenly our lives,
become mortal.
Can we wait how long to see the train,
exit that mysterious tunnel,
or will it remain everlasting,
why do we have to imagine that motions
become dependent on life inside a
sudden stop.
~
keep searching for the light,
keep searching ... in the sudden stop
there always remains a light!