The
Lonely Poet
The breeze that
lifts my autumn leaf
That bends this silent flower stem
Tears from my midst
the finished page
That cannot see
what it shall be
But joined with life’s
own rifling wind
Will write within
the heart it rends
*
In a World Books
From a lighted
centre a beam goes forth:
A line in amethyst
shooting depths of sight;
Through a world of
books it travels,
Finding stories in the river of life ---
Thought open: the
light beyond fills it
And a flow of angel’s
tears are in me, pearled ---
Falling softly in
streams of insight burning bright
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