Her skies have darkened just as times before,
Only now she’s not haunted by the night.
Gazed upon the ocean, yet stayed ashore,
Her tired excuse: the fading of days light.
She was born on this rock it’s enough to
Die on. Knowing there is more she arose.
In this way those years ashore she’ll undo;
Leaving her rock, to reflect what she’s chose.
She may fall down or be crushed by the waves,
Many times she’ll face the risk of drowning.
No matter the end this is how she’ll behave,
Always she’ll arise from floundering.
I only know this because she survived,
And from her example my hope revived.
Posted in Personal, Sonnets
Tagged arise, arose, ashore, behave, drown, Fall, hope, night, ocean, poem, poetry, revive, rise, rock, she, shore, skies, sky, sonnet, survive, waves
Transcendent fire on the forest floor
Lifts one higher than before.
Not unlike dust in the wind,
Smoke curls in and out again.
Rising above the trees below
She sees the ashes she did sow.
And in destructions wake it seems,
A moment to take and slowly breathe.
The pale rose sunset against a sky too long,
Ushers in a dimmer dawn.
No use in asking ashes “What if?”
She lifts herself to give the sky a kiss.
Artwork by loish at http://www.loish.net
In came the wind today.
It took her heart so far away,
She didn’t fight, she let it fly.
So many reasons, she could’ve cried.
As before the wind, grass would yield,
She was the same and saw no appeal,
To impersonate an oak, and meet the same end
As the grass, but with a more violent bend.
Then having fallen and no one heard,
She says lamenting:
“Joy is made sorrow and the lonely burn.
All is made nothing. Our lives so short.
Where is the Watchman, sitting high in His fort?”
In her silence, on the wind, an answer she hears.
“This is why your heart disappeared:
You had no patience for the storm,
You knew not its true form.
All is made nothing, and sorrow to joy,
But again there is something! There is more I employ.
Stand rise again! You will conquer I ensure,
The storm is nothing, you have the strength to endure.
The only oaks that fall to the wind, all have rotten roots
Grasses may not fall, but they accomplish nothing expect for becoming soot.”
She arose and stood again, knowing fully where to stand.
Then on the narrow path, for her first few steps,
She held the Masters hand.
Posted in Rise Above
Tagged joy, lonely, Master, path, poetry, rise, sorrow, storm, tower, Watchman, wind
We were so close to the sun, its glory,
That we had forgotten the earth below.
So gather close, I’ll tell you our story.
When we chose to, ourselves in sunlight clothe,
And we were told by many: “Impossible!”.
A small bit of fear I felt, I’ll admit.
But together we were unstoppable,
To more than “good enough” we did commit.
So high above forgotten earth were we,
They could not understand our seeking light,
They on forgotten earth forgot to see,
The path laid clearly for them in sunlight
If someday I will reach our goal, I don’t know.
Though on our way, this path I hope to show.