...wait...

We live in hidden Love.
It has been eclipsed,
And the world is dark,
Cold, grievous, stark
Full of the deafening echos
Of pain.

But when the shadow has passed
And Love is revealed,
It will blind our earth eyes
Burn through the doubt, the lies
And leave only the holy sound
Of His Name.

And we will see what was there, all along.
With the light of true love - Clear, Pure, Just, Strong!

Joie de Vivre

We
Sit here
Waiting for
The rising sun
And breathing in joy
With great lungsful
Of precious
Morning
Air

Rooftops and Shepherds

The clean, cloudless skies
Bless the shepherd boy's eyes
As he walks tall and strong,
Poor, humble, Invincible!

Oil that's falling
Down hair,
Over cheekbones
That glow with the fire
of the calling.

Then cries, and shouts
War, blood, fear
Guilt...and the world
Stops.

While the chosen one waits
With a dull, nauseous ache,
For redemption.

Painless

Can a life that feels no pain
Be taught to suffer?

Can a belly that has never ached
Learn to fill those who hunger?

I am surrounded by the richest of Love's treasures;
My man, my children, my family
How long have you given them?

Yet, I rest in the
All-consuming joy of my Savior.

And I wait here, and
Pray in my comfort-

Lord break my heart,
Before life comes to
Break it for me.

While the choice is mine,
I beg for a heart like Yours.

The Myth of Emptiness

When trade winds die, and breezes cease to blow
The sun's rays slice the vault, a brutal knife.
The vast, unending waves, so dark and low
Seem empty, deathly calm, devoid of life.

On cloudless nights, we gaze into the sky,
An infinitely dark and lonely place,
Where mankind has no home, can only try
To think and dream and fill the barren space.

A grieving heart that aches for what is past.
That loses faith, that cannot love, or dream.
Waits only for finality, a Last.
Longs hopelessly to join that Western stream.

Yet all these things, the heart, the sky, the sea.
Are full of beauty, waiting for release.

Wither Like the Grass

One thin man climbs the hill, slipping and sliding as he steps on boulders, grunting as his body hits the ground once again. With the last of his strength, he crawls to the top, and stands staring into the black depths of the water so far below him.

As he falls through the air, a sunbeam bounces off the sea below, and makes a halo around his smooth head, and his wrinkled face. He calls out, in one last fleeting, flying prayer, the soulless roar of a man who earned and fought, but never lived. The hollow cry of a creature who abstained from love.

Dictator's Legacy

A fervent man of pensive mien
Yet wanders through a world unseen
As truth and love both pass him by
And leave him lonely, dark, and lean.

For danger lurks in isolation
When a man, or more, a nation
Lives within itself and makes
A dogma from interpretation.