There is A Place That I Remember Well

There is a place that I remember well
though never have I seen its setting sun,
nor have I walked its streets of gold
or listened to a bird sing up above.
And yet I know its rivers run so clear,
I hear its babbling brooks and rustling leaves.
I feel its winter snow caress my cheek
as softly as the kiss true lovers seek.
My heart beats in the rhythm of the breeze
that gently flutters from a swallow’s wings,
and in my mind a summer has begun.

There is a place that I remember well
though never have I seen its setting sun.
But it is there, each time I close my eyes
and listen as the day is put to rest.
And one day I will find the way, I know
to memory of sweet and endless night.

Holes

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Inside me something dwells that screams in fear
whenever I espy a cratered place.
It can be hard to know when one is near
for tiny ones are the most vile disgrace.
I cannot help imagining the feel
of rubbing those most evil pits and dents.
They dance and flicker like a movie reel
that in my mind true horror represents.
But worst of all, perhaps, is in my skin,
which burns like fire with an itch so deep.
It seems to well up from someplace within –
the sight alone enough to make flesh creep.
But is it terror true beneath the fear
that underlies this grave and gruesome dread?
Or is it just a simple strange idea,
connected by a most surprising thread –
that deep in tunnels monstrous things are bred;
that pockmarks can be seen on one’s deathbed;
that holes are dug for no one but the dead?

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Through the window glass
I see
a bird flying high.
She twists and turns on a warm spring breeze.
Below her is a field of clover,
every purple flower
staring up at me.
And I watch,
silently.

The bird flies by the windowglass
and sees
a face staring out,
motionless
despite the warm spring breeze.
She circles once
and then again
and lands,
asking everyshing flower,
why?
Why does the face watch through the window
and never ride the warm spring breeze
into a field of purple clover?

Tell Me of A Summer’s Day

Tell me of a summer’s day
when the sunlight shone so bright,
chasing loneliness away
though the day still turned to night.

Tell me of a summer rain,
warm and soft as true love’s touch
that freed me from the searing pain
of longing for you far too much.

Tell me of the summer morn,
when the day broke on our love
that like budding blooms was born
out of something from above.

Tell me, when did darkness fall,
when the rain trurned icy cold,
why the blooms began to fall,
how our love could grow so old?

Tell me of a summer’s day
when a heart now turned to stone
can face the truth I dare not say –
even with you, I am alone.

I Caught a Glimpse of Some Eternity

I caught a glimpse of some Eternity
as I gazed toward an almost setting sun.
And in that moment time stood still,
the ache deep in my heart relieved at last
as every leaf caught in a gentle breeze
stood frozen in a heavenly repose.
And as the light turned golden all around
a single snow white dove flew overhead.
With arms outstretched I reached out toward the sun,
but something told me it was not for me,
that on no beating of a white dove’s wings
was there a haven waiting patiently.
I let the tears fall freely from my eyes
and with one blink Eternity was gone.
And as the dull eternal pain returned,
I watched the sun again start to descend.
I walked in silence as the wind picked up,
in search of someplace I could call my own,
where one short glimpse becomes reality.

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Last night I dreamed of some far place
where time at last stood stood.
Before me stood a golden gate
atop a grassy hill.
And I felt peace within my heart
like never once before.
I wanted to stay in that place,
now and forever more.
But then I opened wide my eyes,
and, oh! The gate was gone!
My tears fell fast, for then I heard
time’s steady march go on.

Into the Woods

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Into the woods I wander
searching for a special place
that calls to me.
And the trees,
they guide me
to the light within the dark.
To my left a river runs,
and the wind whispers in the leaves
telling me I have found the way.
Though the path is long and dark
and I may never reach the place where my dream lies waiting,
I give myself to the woods,
knowing I am safe at last
for never will the whispers
tell me to go back again.
The dream alive forever more.
And I am free
to wander.

The Golden Place

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Across an ocean black as pitch, some say,
there lies a land that even time forgot,
an ancient place where dwell forgotten dreams.
And if one finds perchance safe passage there
by searching darkest depths of memory,
a golden city will at last appear.
Though don’t be foold by beauty’s shining light,
for ‘neath the gold is only an abyss.
And when the city opens wide its gate,
revealed is naught but endless empty streets
beneath which breathe the souls who came before.
There is but one way down the golden streets,
no way to turn back on the path once found.
And at the center of that golden place
is where all roads at long last will converge.
And in the center is an azure pool,
it sings a siren’s call to weary feet.
None can resist the pull to water’s edge,
the lure of knowledge in eternal sleep.
With just one touch the universe revealed,
and light of gold gives way to starry night.
And in that instant one joins with the sun
that ever keeps that golden city bright.

Where the Sun Shines

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A breeze caresses my cheek
and I hear waves breaking on a sandy shore.
Breathing deep the salty air,
I take one step
into a beam of sun.
And I know that it has shone forever.
I hear your voice
and I walk
until the sand gives way to stone beneath my feet,
and I turn
but behind me is only darkness.
I strain to hear
but no gentle breeze caresses my cheek
on which your voice can carry.
And so I walk
into the darkness
searching for that eternal sun,
though I may never reach the shore.
I will walk
until I feel the sea air blowing,
and hope you will be waiting
in the sunshine.