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On a lake I'm drifting.
When a wind begins
to blow my craft at will.
The moon silhouettes on the lake, the trees upon the
shore, and sounds of wildness pervade
the skies.
While drifting on my boat, without oars.
Which heading should I take?
Possibilities satiate my head.
All
in a feeble attempt, to preserve the self, within.
Yet in the end I must concede to the will of the wind.
For anything
else is but a fallacy entertained.
Gazing into the water.
Distorted likenesses of my face I perceive.
Emotions
of helplessness surmount me.
While drifting on this boat with merely me.
Somehow, I must surrender this kismet.
To
the forces that eternally be.
While the wind blows upon the lake.
And the moon makes silhouettes of the trees.
I
must descern the corporeality of life.
While on this lake, alone, with merely me
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To sense creation anticipating the dawn.
To
observe in winter, trees waiting for spring to come.
To see an egg waiting to be born.
To behold God in all things,
to know how he should be adorned.
I can conceive, seeing the waters returning from whence they came.
Telling stories
of the mother to their father the sea.
Reciting their paths and gatherings in the great play.
I envision God's might
like a river, and I like
a stone, which falls into its' current.
Did you know the splendor of this dirty rock,
as
I fell unto you, stream.
I deeming myself an ugly rock, tell you open my yes to see.
With your current you tumble me,
till my rough edges are worn.
Surely your care is evident as I feel not any pain.
Undoubtedly it is your nature to bring
form
to me, as I concede unto your force.
Transforming me into a glistening pebble on the floor of your waters.
Making me
so splended, so that even I begin to marvel
at the beauty that was hidden within.
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Gazing, I attest a birds' aspiration to fly free.
My
spirit casts my mind into the sky, into a cloud to perceive.
A tear, the falling raindrop from my eye.
Amidst the
fluffy white clouds, sprinkled throughout the sky.
Dazed an exquisite dove winged upon the ground.
Wondering why freedom
has bestowed him, earth bound.
Mind, oh the rhyme of wanting, to touch the highest peak.
Down along the struggle how
the dove sang his weep.
Muscles honed as glass hesitating until the fall.
Ensuing with downward plunge, how fast, as
fast as rhythm, he saw.
Then that split second, he'd risen up his beak.
He danced unto the sky for the freedom which
he reaped.
Sing me, yes, that song, little dove of your
achievements which once was.
Tell me where has your piper
gone, and of who this story is of.
Which of us has risen unto that sky above.
And of who casts that teardrop which now,
bestows life unto a bud.
My mind plummets from the cloud, a tear rolls down my cheek.
The thought of wasted time
like the dove, for the
things we wish to reap.
Though it is our nature, as with the stream, to find our
father, despite
our wanderings.
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I witnessed in the morn, when the tempest was
over.
A light refulgent, as that I'd never perceived, and I fell
to my knees, for the years of strife over.
I
found myself blemished a husk of pollution laying as clothes.
I could espy myself.
Though a self I did not know.
What
is this light, where by I can see?
How did I happen upon it?
What pertinence does it find in me?
Shinning so
consummate, I conceal myself, for descrying myself unclean.
Though it's love comforts me.
As though a mother, bathes
the newborn having no repulsion to the film which covers it.
As though a babe within the womb perceives not what
it
is, while the mother fathoms what it shall be.
Oh mother, light.
I am a mass of nothingness till you bequeath me
insight.
Revive the self which dwells within me.
For I see you here, but I know not where he be.
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