Swiftly rides the hour of our night
and the coming dawn, prepared to rise;
I am braced before a ring of light
that softly crowns the pre-dawn skies.

Shall we stumble here, suffice to fall?
These lands were made of darkened heights
and beauties harsh, and scaffold cliffs
that slip the foot and trick the eyes

yet I never faltered, nor was fooled
for here reside those moments few
before new light, when truth shines clear
as crystals, and in darkness, blooms.

I have traveled far, but dawn has come
to greet me; all further roads
are bound by light.

God is not freedom,
nor release from suffering,
nor an absence of self,
nor a new self beginning --

God is the completion of the self
the final piece
the maturation of a soul

and know
that although the trees
do not bloom for me,
that surely, their seasons are my own
and I am master of nothing,
not even
their infinite love.

Your pure, musical thoughts....

It is your patience
that compels me.
It is your silence
that bids me to speak.
It is your wonder
I would share,
and your pure,
musical thoughts.

I love you,
and although time creates distance
still, we are beyond time
and far too late to care.
You are all that has proven true
in my life, a glorious sacrament
and I am stricken by awe
that I found you. I have need
to speak, and yet struck dumb
by your stillness,
by the infinite spark
of our love.

All comes
when it comes
and arrives
as it should,
in our seasons
of growth
and sweet
summers of
gold, all time
knows its own time,
and all days
know tomorrow;
I trust
in dawn's timing
and patiently
follow.

Days fly by,
yet where do the
shimmering winds go,
mother?

Night
in the forest glade,
how will I know
when the shadows fade,
father?

Can you blame me, death? For who am I to stand
apart, and turn from you --a second breath? I have not
the will to whisper, nor make light your news,
nor doubt you that your word is true.