I used to think nothing

Was something that must be elevated

As an evil or a good;

Now I have found

It is only the sound of the silence

Calling us all

To the depth of the wood;

Where we shall see clearly

The path that we shall come upon,

When there is no longer

any fear that it could

Do anything but give us

The life that is longing

To return to the Source

That it should.

2012.09.30.0100 ©

It is the silence

Of the night

That permits the echo

Of yesterday

To repeat;

So I must dream softly

On the surface

That the life

I have accustomed

Would not tomorrow’s

Whispered siren

Itself delete;

From a tapestry

Of patterns

In designs

Of distant Kingdoms

Where my lost and

Wandering spirit

Does retreat;

What is more the burden?

How I’ve sinned in my confessions?

Or the longing for temptation’s

Constant beat?

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