Peace

 

One sings of summer,

winter’s grip now forgotten.

Peace always trumps fear.

Too much

There’s much I can not do.

Or maybe won’t, one might say,

knowing there’s room in life

for both those two.

I’ve done a lot before,

answering the world’s cri de couer,

before the years crept on,

in a youth as pretty as the dawn,

those early days,

acting out the wild,

only lately becoming 

this elderly child.

So, yes, I guess,

it’s more that I won’t even if I can,

simply trying to be

a gentler man.

Ligtworking

 In the continuum,

from infinite to finite,

to form from light,

from energy to matter,

to human from Divine,

is there a place along the line,

where each begins or ends,

a clue the route portends,

as we blindly drift,

a nexus where we shift?

Perhaps, but it’s unknown,

the heaven we have sewn,

the place we ourselves create,

this thing we call our fate,

where with Spirit we co-create our place,

between ourselves and God’s grand grace.