Homage to Wisdom

All hail to her, the Queen of every man!
Whom spoken words of every tongue has praised…
Her prowess serves her since this world began,
when every cloud was formed and sun was raised.
She reigns in power…molds the human mind
to love and ponder mysteries unsought.
Yet, when our limits leave our awe confined,
We come to terms that certitude is naught.
For can we grasp all that she does possess?
Or comprehend the wholeness of her truth?
Humility—does now my heart confess
for she pervades from ancient down to youth.

You are in me…in them, in every soul!
For all eternity, may we extol.

Homage to Wisdom

All hail to her! O Queen of every man!
Her prowess still by every tongue is praised,
from when all time and space...the world began,
and when the clouds were formed and sun had raised.
For who can know the contents of her mind?
Or comprehend the deepness of her thought?
For us, her lovers, are our thoughts confined...
Without humility, our quest in naught.
The power she bestows, that we possess
ought find it’s grounding on the purest truth.
And I, infatuated, now confess
My love for her ‘til aged from my youth

She is in me, in them, in every soul!
For all eternity, may we extol.

Blackberry

Oh ye whose orbed figures gathered sweet,
connected by thy fibers ever frail.
Arranged in nature's order--bundled neat
to satisfy...and yet to no avail.

For too, thy flesh, is bitter to my taste
and seeded coarse like grit upon my teeth.
But yet I savor every bite as chaste,
as sacred, and as all that grace bequeath.

My dear beloved fruit of thorny bush,
you satiate the craving once unknown.
Though black, enlightened, do your flavors push
to understanding fluid, which has grown.

Now empty hands once full of thee must wait
until our paths are crossed again by fate.

...

Slumber...sleep, O somber soul.
Savor the sound of silent
songs of satisfying serenity.

O stop and sense the soothing
shade that salves the sickness
that settles secretly.

You're safe, O sweetness
of my spirit.

That Silenced Timber

Upon the edge of axes
pulse these veins of obedient
and humble servants.

What more must they give?
Abundant air...abodes
struck down for finite fill.

That Silenced Timber
at service to their Maker,
sharing all with neighbor:

Allowing them sustenance,
Providing life's shelter;
Breathing hope into tomorrow.

Breath

Freed. Fetters once binding now serve vainly.
How has renewal found its place here?
By what means does He call me?

Moved, I cannot return to this place.
Every pace plodded makes place for progress,
yet doubt darkens eyes to see it.

Like a breeze drifting on dormant shores,
Your breath has swayed my inmost being.
Changed, I cannot return to former ways.

Led by Your call, I face forward.
Refined by Your fire, I am unburdened.
Breathe on me, that I may see.

Stained Glass

How, o sharded face, do you,
in all your stillness,
 in all your beauty,
radiate such calm?

With hands unknown,
beyond your speckled surface--
sought to draw one's eyes
into the mysterious.

Though...function fades
when purpose prods the
pristine portrait for
"perceived" purity.

Behind your pigments,
between the rebar;
who are you?

My own eyes are kept,
veiled to who you really
are...beneath the stains.
Blinded to the window
of your very essence.

Though unseen, though loved
for your disguise;
I knew you. I get you.
I see you as you.