For friends I’ve lost and friends who are now gone
Who venture forth, still breathe and taste of life
For those who left to chase their own new dawn
And left me on this path to walk alone
Imagine there is reason I brought strife
Or else they would not think me best alone
Yet knowing this, the last twist of the knife
Woe their choice, yet still I’ll never condone
Oh the thought doth freeze a little lone soul
To think upon the friends who have moved on
The ones who care not ever ‘gain to know
How much I love them though there’s no reason
For friends who choose to cut me from their life
How sad the mem’ry cuts me like a knife
Oh do not speak or swear those words rancid!
Those very words echoed these past weeks,
So many voices howled them flaccid,
They speak no meaning; filibuster reeks.
What ho! Caveat meet burden of proof.
What ho! Thine eyes look now and come alive,
Heed these warnings, Yay, stand thee not aloof.
Listen to my voice: epiphany thrive;
Oh human error wakening mistake,
Self correcting moral fiber; tight, taught;
Upon recollecting, now can awake,
Realize this lesson will cost a lot.
Let me not hear of HIS VOICE evermore.
He made months into years, beyond four score.
Beautiful waves crashing down on the shore;
Violent, pounding water ‘gainst the Earth;
Gentle Greeting from each side doth implore,
Gentler meeting before the burst gives birth
Unto a thousand fragments shorn of stone,
A thousand drops of water shatter new;
Whithering the pebbles smoothly as bone,
Whispering echo of men we once knew.
Oh, but for a break, in the cold long day
When’st I pause and catch his whisper ‘tween breaks;
Gentler though, our life will never thus sway.
His voice, and his alone, will bring Earthquakes.
Then let my peace be the pounding new tide;
‘Til he come home again, here by my side.
Oh, yield my hope to providence divine;
Cast forth my wish into the morning tide;
Which e’er way goes be best for thee and thine,
And as for me, whatever outcome abide.
To speak my hope will only waste the word;
To tell my wish will only waste the hope;
So keen, the wit, I leave meaning inferr’d;
You’ll know my wish in reading what I wrote.
Press palms together in open prayer,
Trusting our faith will answer all in time;
For no want of life strike more dear and fair;
Thy promise carries worth more than this rhyme.
And so whichever way this fable goes
I leave us to heaven for whom Life flows.
More viscous than the field at Marathon,
Imagination strains to make the leap,
Wherein a mind enters the triathlon,
The Past, Present and Future pattern keep;
No muse shall sing of now as they did then;
No record gleans harbinger’s history;
We opted for the code and not the pen,
Thus, find us, now, en route with no story.
To be able to side step pattern’s wrench,
Perhaps it is of simple recompense;
A human thirst no age will ever quench.
Did we plan to abandon reason’s sense?
Go catch us straight before this sinks too deep!
It may be now too late to stop our leap!
Hybris or Justice
Such Subtle Siren, whisper, what we want;
No other but what becomes thyself clear’d;
Relinquish mine own bond to mind infant
Ideas of such grandeur their course I fear’d.
What fault to toss aside my plea: Justice,
Thine homage consider our want so meek;
Maligning truth and reason yields hubris,
Leaving the core of reason oh so weak.
Tender thoughts more rich than soil’d words grown
Laconic lands that mind set forth to plow
Toil’d, weather’d ascending to a throne
Heed not what callous’d wisdom doth endow
For in the musings of our subtle mask
Virtue sears our purpose to the harsh task.
How cruel secrets be if keepers lose keys,
Best welded shut and kept thus desperate,
Cry Woe, if err’d secrets find quick release,
Raise’d havoc over Love degenerate.
Heavens above doth stare cold and callous,
Be done with me! Fault lies with me! Unclean:
Great swells erode my shores; I love thee, Yes;
How cruel doth Fate bode ill, secrets foreseen.
My ever lasting fear never be true,
No secrets have I kept from you or me,
Oh, but assuage the thought unsaid anew
Woe thru silence, keep thou faulty key;
Better thou know’st thine own transgressions be,
Else know’st thine own concious malice lose me.
Goodnight fair landscape minding such sorrow;
For souls that singeth wanting for Echos,
More temperate, Oh Muse, be tomorrow;
More sincere, cast away what no one knows.
Sing soft this night of such sweet memory;
Sing true on the morrow of hope to come;
Bloom full each soul’s sole song, guarding story,
Breathe dawn upon gardens with tender hum.
Oh Muse such want for Echo to return
Witness the lone symphony of my heart
Enflame only the soul that begs to learn
Walk steadfastly beside and do not part
All this landscape knows is so simple thus
Oh Muses wait in reach for each of us