Cunneda

Saturday, November 14, 2015

11/13







There is still
A resonance of that original harmony,
Alive within me;
But in creation's song,
There quivers the bassful groan of death;
Although living.......
It is always dying:
We sing our songs,
Keeping watch that we are not
The next to die.......
In our communion
Between life and death;
Partaking of that which is dying,
With God's curse,
Coursing though its delicious veins.

Monday, November 2, 2015

I Want To Fly






I want to fly
Free across the sky;
Unbounded, by the fetters
Of my little world.......
I am transfixed by a wanderlust
That propels me,
Like fairy dust on the wind:
I want to see the stars,
To feel the winds that birth tornadoes,
To befriend the moonlight.......
Who so often guides me in its serenity;
I want to discover the beauty a land
Covered, in deep natural hues.......
The freedom to fly,
Is the freedom to wander
Across the land, as oasis one day,
And stormcloud the next,
To lift above it all,
And freely lay my bags behind.