The Ragged Writings of Everland . . .

A green leaf in drought . . .

Hard ripped from a bent twig---

But sent flying

A rose bud in situ . . .

Cruel plucked from a thorn bush---

And taken deeper

My soul untouched is safe . . .

But that is not

What it was created for                                                                  

                                          

Starlight shines upon a garden rose

Soft loveliness belies its secret   

That it kept within it a deeper gift

That both beauty and truth were in it

Irresistible fragrance bound with a sting

Irrefutable truth bound with grace

Unfathomable reason for its thorn in me

Unthinkable the joy of its inherent Giver

There, the terrible part of my unsolvable question

Shall I run from the painful thing because it offends?

But, the carpet is red that bears the feet of them

That have trodden down the grapes

Laid before those who held not back from life

Because of death

It is better to dare than hide   

Stretching

People like form and a perceived order delights

If out of some chaos of incompatible lines

Any pattern appears its gifted ease will soon appeal

No eye likes to be faced with what it cannot fathom

Understanding life’s piercing swiftlight can only come

Through belief that in it is some unforeseen beauty

Waiting in seeming complexity to be found out simple

In simply believing here was something greater 

For out of darkness God commanded the light to shine

That the best of any knowing come only of faith

So that what it chooses to love without understanding

Can have an inner working greater than any straighter thing

In the end it will be those who have dared who win

Those who swallowed walls and were willing to be stretched

It is all in the stretching my spirit’s capacities expand 

Left without it I think I’m right and tied stay shrunk 

Dare!

Starlight shines upon a garden Rose

Its soft loveliness belies its secret  

That it kept within it a deeper gift

That both beauty and truth were in it

Irresistible fragrance bound with a sting

Irrefutable truth bound with grace

Unfathomable the reason for its thorn in me

Unthinkable the joy of its inherent Giver  

And there the terrible part of my unsolvable question:

Shall I run from the painful thing

Because it offends?

            But the carpet is red that bears the feet of them

            That have trodden down the grapes

Laid before those who held not back from life

Because of death

It is better to dare than hide!