Songs of Love Feb. 13, 2005 I painted sorrow in a young girl's eyes And drew the corners of her red lips down; I etched the pain of a heart that longing cries For love that opens as the rose is blown. I heard the music, caught the soul's perfume, Its rhythm marked and felt the cadence clear Of youth undaunted by the hand of doom Or touched as yet by the chill breath of fear. A joy so rare broke sweetly through her smile, She seemed a child of God from future years; Though I must leave, my soul shall stay awhile, My son

Towards Her Light Once the world within me grew and bloomed And, owning nothing, all in my account Flourished and increased the seasons' wealth. Music in me sang the stars to sleep And dawn the brighter grew as joy fulfilled An ancient longing in my youthful heart. Each day a newness brought, a larger quest; I sought through sense to feed the passion's flame That flowers briefly through the fleeing hours, Forever etch on the tablets of time, my name. I hoarded transient memories of love, Heard whispers of a higher destiny Than fate's appointed road or man's acclaim. I laboured in a soil that fed my dreams, And learned the language o

The Dwelling Place for God I fell among the thorns of grief Shaken and torn as the falling leaf Is torn and buffeted and blown Upon the fields, and I was thrown To drown in rivers of despair. I could no longer touch her hair Or feel the warmth that once I knew And in my heart the sickness grew. Day and night were one to me Blinded by the intensity Of pain that manacled my soul, I heard death's bell within me toll. I could not keep the tears from eyes That once saw unfold destinies Of transformation by a light Descended in our mortal plight. The garden of my sadness grew Flowers of diviner hue, Wave o

Fill the Chalice of the Soul We work in gardens awed by stately trees And flowers with their symbol names that touch And move the mind to bright awakenings, Then slowly make their way into the heart. I have not even a remote idea What transformation is to come, but then There is soil to move and numberless weeds to pull And piles of compost needing to be built. Gardens of Consciousness, who here can say What force established in the earth shall change Our lives by their descent or charge the air With beauty far beyond these mortal eyes? To know the joy of youth and bliss to feel! But the hibiscus need our care, we work A

Fish in Shining Schools Do fish in shining schools reflect His light, Do crows converse among themselves of God And of the earth, the willow and the thorn Do they awake to savour each new morn? In the thousand-tensioned moments of our lives Do we recall or even more, delight In silence mid this world's complex design And wonder at things common and divine? The mover of this enigmatic life Is hidden from the outward view of man, Surpassing form, oblivious of name Installed within this dense corporeal frame. O once to know the grace in which we move All things our wakened souls to touch with love.

The Road to the Beloved Jan. 21, 2011 In the flickering lamplight of this mortal mind That casts more shadows than its light reveals I stand alone surveying dusky fields Of memory allied to humankind. I seem a visitor here, somewhat removed, Distanced from the fury and the fray, The life-force, concentrated, seeks the way To find at last the road to the Beloved.

I Am the Dancer That I might rise above the sorrowed night In which I live abandoned by delight My days to serve in darkness and despair Of inner self recovering its sight, The pain of the recurring centuries In which all gains succumb to death's decrees, A life so brief, so filled with mundane care That small tormenting troubles never cease. And yet a guidance stays with me, a grace, Surrounding wisdom fills this mortal space Approaching feet upon celestial air Descend, and the smile of a beloved face Burns through the veils of human ignorance. I am the dancer and I am the dance.

A Chalice for Divinity To say I am an empty jar Waiting for the Force to fill Is false, am I not full of self, Desire, ego, anger, still? A vessel in a holy place Emptiness is an inner state When spirit takes a solemn vow Acknowledging that one must wait To see his face in every face, His voice upon the sacred air His smile that breaks in child and man His beauty dancing everywhere And love that suffers all through love, No thought of self when all is one, All doubt allayed, all tears, all pain Subsides, the hour of peace begun. The far frontiers draw nearer now, The crown of life's long mystery To free t

A Radiance Unstained Sometimes between my waking and my sleep I see the words outlined upon the page Or hear a music for mortal ears too deep And feel the presence of an inner sage. In moments I hear a voice I know is mine Yet find myself adrift in unknown seas, Or see a face so perfectly divine That suddenly I fall upon my knees And all the world is married in my eyes No fragment that is not in God contained. Then vision fades from these peripheries Above my brow a radiance unstained.

The Downy Woodpecker He tapped upon the window pane With firm and loud staccato sound A downy bird, he came again Who yesterday lay on the ground. I held him weakened in my hand And stroked his back, his wings, his breast Softly that he might understand I spoke of life as I caressed, Encouraging again his flight. He would not leave but wrapped his feet Around my fingers gripping tight, The heart within him strongly beat. I have held birds in whom the light Grew fainter with each failing breath But this one suddenly took flight He had no time as yet for death. I watched him on a nearby tree His grasp was sure,