The Circle

The Circle

                                                                      Click to enlarge

The circle has no sharpness,

No points on which to snag the heart.

To each place upon its path

It returns by gentle curve

To enfold itself,

A loving whole.

And when we look within

We gaze upon the center,

Where all who enter meet.

A Silent Word

A Silent Word

                                                                      Click to enlarge

I hear a voice

In the sound of Nature,

A silent word

In a silence heard,

The mountain breeze

That does not move the trees,

But is the breath

That Spirit breathes.



Reflections

Reflections

                                     Click to enlarge

Reflections of a promised me

Upon a tranquil sea

Casting back my thoughts to me.

A timid hope I see,

A promised time to be,

A coming

Coming back for me.

                                                                       Click to enlarge

The Watcher

The Watcher

                                                                      Click to enlarge

The light rises to quell

The dangers of the dark;

The watcher of the wood

Retreats to wait another night,

As primal man emerges

From his shelter

To attend his daily task...

 For the dark will fall again,

And the watcher cometh back.

Stardust

Stardust

                                                                     Click to enlarge

Myth onto myth

Does the mind go 'round,

Searching and searching

For the beginning and the end,

And the meanings in between.

But stardust to stardust

Does the circle go round,

'Till one day again
To a star

Will our dust be bound.

Night Players

Night Players

                                                                     Click to enlarge

These players who nightly

Come upon my stage to play,

Whose ways I know so well,
Though the play be yet to tell.

When the morning curtain falls

I wonder where they go.

There is an Eternity

There Is An Eternity

                                                                       Click to enlarge

I walk mountain trails

And see granite slabs

Smoothed by the movement of glaciers,

Small meadows

That once were shallow lakes,

Ancient Bristlecone Pine

Bent by countless winter gales.

All these things that sign

The passage of Time,

Telling me there is an eternity

That I only touch for a day.

                                                                                                Click to enlarge