Sunday, August 22, 2010

Forgiveness In Friendship

Forgiveness In Friendship

How do you apologize
when simple words cannot equate
to what was said and what was done,
before it was to late,
to halt the lips from speaking,
such heinous words in haste,
holding back the turbulent storm,
of a friendship laid in waste?

How does one say I'm sorry,
when those words are not enough,
to heal a wounded heart,
born out of anger's tempestuous rebuff?

There is no taking back
that single moment in time,
where in a feverish frenzy,
you somehow cross the line,
like a hothead, you brusquely speak,
without thought to what will come,
in the aftermath of battle,
the wounded hearts, that is the sum.

How do you admit guilt
by confessing to your sins,
and asking for forgiveness,
in a setting where no one wins?

Where do you find the strength,
to see the possibility,
of standing before the wounded,
in naught but abject humility,
to offer much more than excuses,
reasons for your words,
things that need to be said,
to ensure that you are heard.

It starts with simple words,
"I am sorry, my dear friend."
and flows from there into the earnest
explanation to the end.
And then there comes forgiveness,
if luck be on your side,
and though it is not forgotten,
your heartfelt words can turn the tide.

Because in deepest friendship,
there is more than just one fight,
more than broken hearts
that can not see the light,
There dwells within that bond,
a special love that can not hide,
even when you have faltered,
and even when you've lied.
And within it's bounds,
there is something truly unique,
forgiveness of a friend,
for all of those who seek.






Thursday, August 19, 2010

She Sits Alone In Silence

She Sits Alone In Silence

She sits alone in silence
with no words upon her lips
starring past the windowpane,
into a world in full eclipse.

She sits alone in silence,
nary a breath, she is so still,
as the world passes around her,
enforcing upon her it's solemn will.

She sits alone in silence,
filled with tears she can not shed,
with eyes of bleak surrender,
and words she has left unsaid.

She sits alone in silence,
unmoving toward another's plight,
for brought to bear, she can not see
what stands before her sight

She sits alone in silence,
for the truth she can not see,
of simple words remembered,
spoken softly, "Help Me!"

She sits alone in silence,
while inside her soul does scream,
crying out for a helping hand,
if only in a dream.

She sits alone in silence,
wondering when this pain will end,
for there is no answer,
except alone, that she must fend.

She sits alone in silence,
with all unseen to common eyes,
wishing for the day,
when someone gentle will help her rise.

She sits alone in silence,
as she contemplates her fate,
where no one sees her troubled heart,
thus demanding her to wait.

She sits alone in silence,
unable to reach out,
to those who might offer love,
in understanding what its all about.

She sits alone in silence,
she is you and she is me,
without a voice to speak in turn,
forgotten is the key.


Sunday, July 25, 2010

Knowing Me, Knowing You

Knowing Me, Knowing You

I have known love, oh so profound,
causing the heart to sing in deepest resound,
while feet stand firmly planted upon the ground,
and the soul is set free, becoming unbound.

I have known joy in holy communion,
where heart and soul meet in jubilant reunion
fortifying the spirit's ethereal constitution
against a bleak world of orderly delusion.

I have known darkness, as I fell from grace,
forced into shame, I willfully hid my face,
so the world could not see my silent disgrace,
as I embarked upon the path of time's eternal race.

I have known sorrow, as it beats against the wall,
morosity so heartrending that it beckons one to fall,
to release the pain in an answering call,
to let go the world, bequeathing it to one and all.

I have known shame in endless refrain,
leaving a blight upon the heart, an infinite stain,
binding the soul in constant restrain
that no human flesh could possibly contain.

I have know peace, like nothing before,
relinquishing the tide to let the spirit soar,
from depths unrealized into it's core,
while here I stand upon a dust covered floor.

I have known me in time's tender repast,
where once I was lost and forlorn, alas,
now I stand tall in celestial cast,
the captain of my ship, as I stand at the mast.

Do you recognize this place that is you,
a place where you feel through everything you do,
from your mother's womb to the time when you are through,
where everything is bright, beautiful and new?

So look to yourself to know what is true,
for you are your guide in all that you do.
You hold the key to all that ensues,
you are the light that lovingly renews.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

The Measure Of A Soul's Evolution

The Measure Of A Soul's Evolution

Upon the darkened wings of sorrows storm,
which cast down shadows heinous in form,
swirls a whirlwind of souls unshorn,
flesh and bone,from whence they were torn,
with voices screaming, and yet, unheard,
lost in a world of the chaotic absurd.

And into this bedlam of mayhem and discord
came a light with arms of rowan wreathed accord
to offer solemn solace to a tempest of despair
and sanctuary's reprieve to those that would dare
to transverse the path in one single stride,
sacrificing the ego and surrendering the pride.

Cascading torrents of anguished avian fluxation,
bound in the mighty grip of anger's consternation,
denied this behest and held back the fray,
abruptly ending the possibility of a jubilant stay
to the bone weary pain and sorrow filled tears
leaving instead naught but sharp jagged fears.

Hell this twas not, nay, look now and see,
the truth that once dwelt deep within me,
beneath the facade of heavenly grace,
below the mask and behind the face,
a single being alone in disgrace
choosing the darkness, a chaos filled place.

But still that light stayed near, with its echoing call,
waiting patiently for a time when I would let go and fall,
to reach out once more its arms of accord,
and slice through the darkness with a heavenly sword.
To offer me blessings of hope through my plight,
and truth, simply sought, through azure sight,
to open the heart in time's gentle refrain,
and wash away the remnants of night's long lasting stain.

See now the measure of a soul's evolution,
even as it fights and casts up in revolution,
for hope's gentle arms stand waiting, ready at hand,
for the time when you fall, to help you to stand,
even when there seems nothing in this realm of delusion,
standing alone, in truth, is naught but illusion.
Have faith, believe, and trust in this fact,
for this truth is given in heavenly pact,
that you are never as alone as you seem,
even when you fight...even when you scream.
All you must do is to turn and to see,
the truth that resides deep within thee.

In A Single Moment

In A Single Moment

Upon a random plain, within a random time,
two sets of eyes meet, but for a moment,
a single heartbeat thrumming...
What does this stranger's eyes behold,
in gazing upon another soul?
Is it beauty, oh so tempting,
that beckons the quickening heart
into lustful quest?
Or do those mortal eyes behold
the flaws of human living?
Do they see dark circles
of tired eyes longing for reprieve?
Do they see the wrinkles,
proof of a long lived life?

And with the eyes partaking
these sights unto its own,
how will it react in kind,
to what it has come to behold?
Will it look on with empathy,
and share in another's plight?
Will it turn away quickly,
with abject disgust written
plainly across it's face?
Or will it pretend not to see at all,
under the guise of apathy's grace?

In a single moment judgment is rendered,
upon the worth of the other soul,
to stand as equals or to condescend,
to acknowledge or to turn away,
to reach out or to do nothing at all.

What will a stranger's eyes behold,
in the moment when two sets of eyes meet?
In a single moment's time alone,
the mood is set for what is yet to come.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Sitting one day in silent repose,
contemplation at the rise,
she pondered, as she was oft to do,
that which she could not surmise.

A singular question, oh so simple,

yet still the most perplexing question one can ask,
for its query demands in answering,
the truths hidden behind every mask.

Who am I, she wondered,

questioning in reflective uncertainty,
while still a part of her held out hope,
for the advent of an epiphany.

As shadows grew long and moments passed,

deep within the quagmire of this reckoning,
she knew within herself to be true,
that none would come to call in beckoning.

There would be no moments of clarity,

offered up by celestial design,
and this she must accept with sincerity,
for to her it fell, the answers to questions she must find.

In frustration's mighty grip,

she rose up from her place of repose,
and with the simplest of words, "I am me!",
she left the rest to heaven knows.

And in that single statement,

born on anger's back,
came more truth than she realized,
out of the darkness of raven black.

For we are more than what we seem,

even when we see nothing to claim,
for each and every one of us,
is a candle lit with an eternal flame.

Speaking the words said in haste,

simple words of "I am me!",
are themselves in essence,
the beauteous truth of an epiphany.


Monday, April 26, 2010

Nevermore

Nevermore

Sorrow filled eyes, unseeing,
blindly lost in thought,
groping heedlessly in the void
for what is consigned to oblivion,
and yet, still endlessly sought.

Unseen, neglected, disregarded,
it calls in silent beckoning
to those who are left sightless
to the absolution of its tender reckoning.

It whispers in benevolence abounding,
to the world weary worn heart compounding
in tones of gentle love resounding
its voice speaks in resonance sounding,
"Nevermore!" to its mournful accounting.

But to weeping eyes that do not see
and covered ears that have yet to hear,
still it waits in humble repose,
abiding oh so near,
to the wounded heart
that cries out in vain,
in the hopes of being the salve
to its ever scorching and burning pain,
a single light unto the dark,
a gentle hand of heaven's mark,
to guide the way and illuminate the path,
out of one's own hellish wrath.

So listen well upon the score,
to the raven that cries "Nevermore!",
so that one day too you may open the door,
allowing you finally to rise up and soar.