17: 15

A Light shines
Through the
Revolving years:
Mists of time,
To be won, only
When they have passed.
It is a present experience;
Immediate, or rather,
A thing unspoken in
The expressions of time;
A waking sight of God;
Seems more transformation,
Than dream, or vision.

Breezes of Autumn

Breezes of autumn
Touch weary lives;
We realize in the heart,
What we nurture
In the sacrifice:
Suspected, in a quest,
That no man gives;
We all, in some way,
Understand at once,
The nature of things
Waning among us.

Reverie

Each life around us
Is a Word of God:
A special muse
And reverie,
Realized in flesh.......
A word, if you will,
Transformed into the
Unheard voice of life;
Waiting, for an
Incarnation.

6/7

They stand, all
Along the course
Of our years,
Solemn monuments
Of unfaithfulness;
And none return,
Save in haunted memory:
Life is full of too lates;
That sad sound
Of the moment lost,
That moans through
The roofless ruins
Of our past,
Like the desert wind
Through some cold,
Deserted temple.

Indeed

Men speak of
The passions that clog,
With the evasive assurance
Of a superficial and reckless mind;
As face answers only
To face in a glass:
The apprehension of pain,
The fear of death,
The dread of the world’s laugh
Enslave alike;
Yet it is not to enjoy,
But to be, that we long for;
A craving, with which
We can part, only,
When we sink below humanity,
For ignorance is the worm
That gnaws the blossom;
Yet the eye, strong enough
To pierce the shadow of death;
Is not troubled because
The mist is dispelled.......and
Seeks not the strength,
Of strengthless dreams:
Striking from the soul,
The fetters of sense;
He delivers, from the
Illusions of time and matter:
Ye shall be free indeed:
It is a grand word, indeed;
Comforting in its simplicity;
It is a word of wonder.......indeed:
There are many kinds of liberty,
But only One “indeed.”