"mjh" poems
Music,
Dancing in the ears.
Trying to distract
From restless thoughts.
Music,
Hard to form, for now.
A wound to the heart,
Death an arrow.
Music,
Just reminds of them.
But slowly time heals
Its own harsh wounds.
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
The invisible hand that stretches across
Oceans and barbed wire boundaries
has more fingers than the streams of light that cascade
from the heavens into the darker recesses
of your magnificence.
There are moments when all seems lost
but the shadow of darkness is dispelled
and replaced by this glimmer of hope
that softly and subtly invades
your magnificence
Even as we explore the faint avenues
that wound their way into our consciousness
we clearly seem to understand how our journeys
criss-crossed over exotic landscapes
and stark desolate realties
to merge into a moment of mystery.
We have finally met.
Now more human than before
the pages of our past turn slowly
the notes we compare are cryptic and careless
but what we share seems to have been sculpted
by the same pen filled with the same ink of wisdom.
Author Notes
for MJH. Thank you.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC