Surfaces

Surfaces

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I see surfaces,

Sunbeam reflections

On soundless pools,
The spark'ling light
In the endless night;

Frowns and smiles,

Gowns and styles,

The dance of gesture--
The endless parade of pretense,
The zealous
Orchestration of invented meanings...
Unreality escaping reality,

Never do I see

The underneath,

The Being beneath,
The abiding Truth withheld--
The inaccessible wavelength,
Cosmic secrets
The eye is not meant to see...

Is it nothingness to which we venture?
A pointless path of made up meanings?

Bits of sensation we construct

Into imagined realities?
Or a veiled Wonder
That waits the eye that sees?

A mind that understands?

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Brevity

Brevity

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I do not mourn my brevity

Among these lasting things--

The sea and ocean shore,

The inland mountain's crest,

The river canyons

Where rushing waters pursue their primal quest,

The ancient forests and desert sands,
The meadow valleys and desolate lands,
The lights and shadows of revolving worlds aglow,

All in their cosmic dress.

Surrounded by eternal forms

My littleness abounds;

My wondering witness the grant they give,

My brief stay Creation's gift,

My fading print upon the ageless clay.
Before these cherish'd scenes I pray...

This mortal me

On a windswept day

By the ocean sea...

Beheld Eternity.

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No Moorage

No Moorage

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No home do I remember

To mark a place embarked.

I know no purpose for my passage,

Nor where my course is bound;

Only a rolling swell of moments

On a sea of endless time;
The lash of sudden gales,
A seldom sun-filled sky
And ever turning tides...

With no moorage to be found
On the boundless boundless brine.

                                                           

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Waiting

Waiting

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As a flower

Grows from within,

The bloom a promise

In the seed,

So I have also been,

Awaiting within

The promise of me.

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Weathered

Weathered

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We cannot know

In a human life

The wear of eternity...

To stand a million rages,

Unmoved,

Only weathered by the task

Of forever waiting.

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A Willing Heart

A Willing Heart

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If I could choose
A grace or gift
It wouldn't be a clever wit, 

An evoking art

Or handsomeness,

But a willing heart...

To always find the finish

From the start.

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Evening Time

Evening Time

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A billion years we have come

To embrace only a day,

And already it is evening time--

The twilight's seductive passing

From moment into mystery.

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