Where
next? What then follows on?
Through
the inner mist I wander onward
Through
a maze of speckled cloud
Not
knowing if I’m right or wrong
Or
where I’m going –
Trusting
blind to the inner gifted vision:
Alive
to the lonely dream alone
What
next? Where then shall I go?
That
any hear what I am given to say
A
rain of booklight is in me –
A
pouring of oil but against the grain
In
my centre, my way I find: not-knowing
A
torrent through any subject flows:
Alive
in light and life, I fit through all
*
Faltering
Steps
Faltering the steps
I take in festive forays
Through the Lantern
Brights in books . . .
To find in light the
strength to pass through dark
To loose the oil I find
there, beyond the spine
Amidst the unseen streets I
walk through gold
Find there my sight that
turns my heart to see
My goings helped, and
known and sheltered
And entered there: simplicity,
and new happiness!
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 a
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
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
*
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