Saturday, January 3, 2015

Power of the Star

A beacon of light; it brings one home,
A song perhaps for only some:
The innocent, the sweet, the still;
The patient on the thorny hill.
Pure sun, I know thee from afar,
Thy shining hair, thy gleaming star...
And in thine glow I lie my head,
A flawless, ample, burning bed.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

New Year

Within the dim confines of a lost tomorrow,
The heart finds a home to hide its sorrow,
In bright gold lanes traced warmly with light
In songs that still linger from birds in flight.
Footsteps make patterns in snow from the past,
Cold things, and dead things, and things that don't last;
People and places ringed harshly in rain
Dreams that the mind views with crippling disdain.
Present paths twist through the soul like a thread,
Unread, unspoken; by consciences spread,
Lips meant for moving, smiles and frowns,
Rivelets or rivers, mountains or mounds.