The Guard Standing

The Guard Standing 

Empty, be the house when the children leave; as is the tree in winter which lay quiet.  Matters not the reason why the leaves return; nor the house no longer empty.  For once again the house filled, as are the trees in spring. 

Hear me now these words I speak.  The trees and all living things belong to Him.  Yet those in this house fall under my protection, blessed by Him.  Gifts given most precious for these are the children of my child.  I watch them sleeping; those small angelic faces, lay peaceful in the quiet. 

Once again the guard is standing; attempt no wrong here.  Wish you peace, then it is His peace I give thee.  Yet if harm be your desire, then leave this place of peace.  For the horror that be the guard standing will greet you; and this greeting unrelenting you do not understand nor wish for, I swear it.

Think me to old, you are as a fool.  Know you not of a father’s love be as the grandfather.  Love given, without question; my life for theirs from heartbeat to heartbeat; the guard is stood. 

© 2009 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Freedom's Hand

Freedom’s Hand

This place once lived in a far off land.  Her screams of agony as her death approached; blinded by our own faults as what I love lay dieing.  She fought the English over taxes.  Battled we the French and the Red man over land.  Brother against brother locked in war’s embrace, that no man should own another in this great land.

As the centuries pass she stood, silent without a sword.  Just a light given freely to all those sought what the forefathers gave.  In this land of liberty none judged by whom was thy father.  For in this land thy actions spoke of what and who was the man standing free.

Still come they to chase their dreams, to this place where one could have his say.  Right or wrong even if it offended, this liberty be part of her great light given.  And if your ear be offended then listen not to the words spoken; but admire and protect that which be the freedom. 

Still no promise of wealth or fame given; just the right to seek that which be thy wish.  To worship as one without fear. A wife and family safe from that which would say not here.  Freedom was the promise, safe from prying eyes.  Now come these that seek to destroy that which I love.  But here I stand to stop her death; even if my blood be spilled the cause was just.  And her light shall burn ever brighter; and in this light you will see the gleaming sword of freedom’s hand.   

© 2009 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Silent Mountain

Silent Mountain

Look I down from this frozen mountain, silent.  Into the valley below the road that winds, quiet.  Where be this place that man exists not; nor any sign of life.  Yet all is at peace atop this frozen mountain.  Winds be the music; the color of the cold.  Would that life be so peaceful, as is this mountain.  Can one help but see the beauty of the silence....

Inspired by Carrie

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Harsh Wind

Harsh Wind

To protect the weak, men stand; like great oaks in the forest. Strong be the oak that stands against the harsh wind; so to these men that protect the weak. Be the difference man's choice; or be it the Almighty, in His mercy. These, which stand for those which have not the legs to fight; for what is their right, life. When evil sets man against his brother; people cry out, still some do not hear. Or be it they hear not the suffering of others. Man, his greed unquenchable, yet to others the bounty unseen. Be there a greater sadness when men war against each other. Be it that so few can stop the oppression of others; be this not the will of the Almighty. Then why do we still war against our brother. Still, we fight and  die to protect those who can not stand. Oh cry out the sadness of the cruelty, and oppression of the weak.  Yet all is as the Almighty wills it. So like the oak, we stand against the cruelty of the harsh wind; so that the weak shall one day stand...

© Words the Windows to the Soul 2010

Spirit Lost

Spirit Lost

Weep I no longer for the young soldier. His blood stains the sand; like oil upon the water, yet I forget him not. How can one not weep at the sight of life gone, as his eyes no longer have the light. Did you see not his pain, nor his sorrow as the end came to him. Be it possible that man’s cruelty has hardened our hearts. Woe be to us that see not; nor feel that which be death real.  Or be it that we too are dead in the soul.  Be this why our minds and hearts be sick; that we see not, nor feel the death of a soul.  Oh the anguish of a spirit lost. Still a young soldier is without life. I do weep for his loss; and for those who can not see; nor feel the pain of the spirit lost.

For an America Soldier brought home to rest
©2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

No End

No End


I often wonder as the sunlight reaches. I see not the beauty; just the ending of the night. Why do I wake, only to remember those that surround me in the night. Would that my yesterdays forgotten; yet each night, the past plays that never ending story. Oh wish that I would see not the nights coming. I can not run, nor hide from those that seek my night.  Each horror comes to greet me; like the pages of a book turning. One wonders what evil has been done. These that sit with me, in this story with no ending. Wonder not who or what I am, for the story be mine; and there is no end. 

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

His Mighty Light

His Mighty Light
The flower’s blossom wilts, when the frost brings the chill.  In the mist of the morning the sun gives life back. The flower’s blossom lives again. When the darkness of the soul; as the coldness of despair brings chilling frost. The coming of the sun with the brilliant light will again bring life. Hear me now these words I give thee. Fear not sadness, nor the darkness of the soul. As the stars in the heavens; give way to the sun. So to the light with the power of the Almighty heals. This the blackest darkness can not hold; against that which be His Mighty Light...

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Secrets

Secrets

Secrets, stories that none can hear; nor see that which be this ugliness. Yes the mind holds these in silence, in these which be the hallways of the mind. Seek no entrance here, for each holds their own horror in these secret hallways.  Let not your eyes gaze upon that which lay hidden.  For behind this door, be the cold touch and there be no escape.  Hear now these words I give thee.  Pass by this door, and hear not the voice calling.  As these secrets wish them not; as the horror goes with them. Will you then lock them away in silence; wish not for these bitter hallways. You have been warned; yet you heard not the warning I gave to thee. Leave this place never to return.  For now you have your stories that none can hear. Bitter hallways which now hold the ugliness; with their horror, secrets

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Medal

Medal

What is this that causes a man to give his life such a violent end. To be trained in the art of war in defense of our nation. To protect others from those who would oppress them. Only to find death at his hand pulling. Oh tell me if you can why does this happen; what does he hear that causes him not to fear. Is it enough then to say then; that he cares for others more than he for himself.
So what is said of these men and women that harms' way is their choice, yet they wish to live. They seek not fame, money or glory, rather God, country, duty follow them. The music they hear most can not, for only the soul of a volunteer can hear these notes. Played on these strings which is the mighty heart.
Sad tis true when one such as they, pay with their life to save another. No pause have they, or thought of what will happen, nor what will not. No fear of what be left not done or what will come tomorrow. Their inner self speaks of danger, but that voice not heard.Many tears be shed on that flag which lay above this which is the mighty heart. Words be spoken of courage and valor, these great deeds by the few for the many. Yet is this enough to speak now of them, we pay our respect to parents and to perhaps their kids, we give this medal to these the fallen heroes. But yet the greatest gift was already given by those that gave up their lives that others shall live. To us was given their Medal of Honor and we forever will remember how they paid for us.

 

 Dedicated to the men and women of armed forces of the United States of America

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Darkness Hidden

Darkness Hidden

I came upon a man; so evident was his pain. Sun’s light had yet to bring life to the night. Yet his eyes held that darkness hidden; of the story not yet told. A bell that tolled only once ended his joy. His love gone as is the sound of the bell. What be this hellish place; in this darkness, where now his heart dwells; and his soul mourns. As we spoke his anger not yet quenched. Nothing could stem the burning hatred of the Almighty. Still be I silent, as he spoke. My soul cries out; for his tears long since dried. He spoke of wife of thirty years. The breaking of his heart; one could not mistake the pain.  My soul weeps for one such as this.  As for him, life be worthless; in that darkness hidden. Till the time comes
for the bell, to toll for him.

For a Man I met today
© 2010 Words The Windows to the Soul

Liberty

Liberty

Rise I from my slumber; thankful for the liberty I enjoy.  Safe, protected by that which be the freedom of this great nation.  Oh America how great be thy heart; that others may touch it but for a moment, longing.   This heart that protects all with one word, Liberty; yet be there many who wish it harm.  Still, they come wishing; even but for a short time, to embrace that which we enjoy.  Be this idea threatened, by those who would rule with fear and oppression.  No, for what lay in their path be a lion sleeping.  Fools know you not what you seek be worth; nor of where your path leads.  Hear these words I give thee, come not against that which is held by the great heart.  For to do so would wake the lion; which be the freedom of that protection; the great heart which be, Liberty...

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Freedom

Freedom
What word be this that the will of man be like iron. This word, which be embraced. Yet to those that would fear it; wish to destroy that which is held dear. Fools do they not know of the iron that protects the beauty of this single word. Still time and again those that seek to destroy, fail. Why then do they wish it, only to destroy that which be held so tightly; that none can break it. Yet they still come; seeking that word with its beauty real. For they lack the liberty to do as they wish. They may not speak; for fear they stand silent. In this their country the word whispered but never spoken. How can one speak of justice that lives in fear; for this word protects them not. From sea to sea they come seeking to embrace but a single word. That one word whispered or shouted means the same to all. To choose who and what we shall; to pray as one wishes, to laugh or cry; be ours to rejoice for this one word, Freedom... 

 © 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Lies

 Lies

It is said the cruel blow of death be most painful; yet then be a lie like death. Be it trust broken, worse than death; as the mind remembers all. These lies spoken, like arrows; when the mark is hit. Yet within be the answer, some wish it not while others embrace it. For what lay within, more power than any arrow....

For Cathy

©  2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Reflections

Reflections

Wonder do I when sadness be unseen.  Yet if the sadness hidden; will I know joy.  Be this possible, that one must feel the sting of sadness; to feel anything at all.  Be this mercy shown, or be  it just the pain we must endure. Wish you not the pain, sadly it be a part of that which is called life.  Be the question then of life and what be the true meaning of it.  As down life's path we walk each day; we approach that which will come.  Though we wish it not; comes death to all.  Truly then be the path taken, that we make our choice.  You wish not to make a choice; yet in life choice be like death, we must come upon that which we wish not.  Still be this force that sustains that which be our life.  Oh joyous be the laughter; and the beauty of  wondrous sights be seen.  Would the chance be worthy of the beauty; yet ever present be that which be unseen.   You say to me you will not wish this path; then truly yours belongs true sadness...

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Start New

Start New

Drink not of this cup my friends; my solemn prayer for thee. Should you find this path that I now take. For this path be filled with pain. I will be leaving everything I hold dear behind. What is this plan, must this be His will; to be driven into that desert, alone. Oh weep I not if swift death comes. Yet this be not the reason of the sorrow. My mind is filled with words; yet the answer eludes. Where is this place that I be bound. Woe unto those that must walk with me, alone. For in this desert begins a start new. The unknown brings its loneliness; as it was the past is now the new day. The danger real, yet fear I not to feel; ask not of the warning but heed it. As the new sun comes and kills the stars, so to the start new. Still I must walk into this which be unknown; for what lay behind is dead. Therein lay the sorrow of what was and that which will be the start new...

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Lion's Roar

When death looks at you there be but two choices, as the lion roars.  Put to death that which would be the lion; or become the food of the hunter, as the lion roars. Like the wind as it howls its warning of that which be the coming of the storm  I will kill this lion but be this act terrible, as I may also die.  The wind and the lion be different yet they are the same; what be it they seek. Yet both are free to do what they will; "  The lion knows where home is, the wind never will."   Be we as the lion; or be it as the wind that goes on forever with no home.  Yet the wind with with the fury bring the desolation; as the earth has become as the sand.  The lion finds nothing to silence the pain of hunger. The wind hears not the plea, it's endless journey where the lion finds its end, the Lion's Roar now silent; so to the quite, of the wind....

Quote Taken from the movie "The Wind and the Lion"

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Sky's Fire

Faces in a fire lit sky; one wonders does the face see me. Or be it just the cloud filled fire lit sky. As I gaze up the face that I see; wonder do I forever in this the warmth; what it is that looks down upon me.  Be this just a phantom, that has hidden amongst the clouds.  Or be it that the colors as the sun dies; that brings the warmth.  Oh cry out the beauty; of what my eyes beheld, in this fiery blaze.  Can you not see the colors of the camp fire's burning; ablaze in this which be a fire lit sky.  Flames ever higher to touch the face which sees only me...

Inspired by Carrie

©2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Fate

Fate

As I look to the past I wonder was my life worthy of its blessings.

Was the test passed, or be it just a failing grade was earned.

Had fate played the cruelest of jokes, the illusion of life’s happiness.  Oh what price was paid for this test taken.

Future clouds now my present; as my steps unsure ever forward.

Yet have I not paid the toll on this path misleading.

How be it then my past is here that I must look again into that which was earned.  Or be the illusion again my test to pass. 

Still wonder I if  any of my deeds worthy; was any difference made by that which was my life’s test.  Or be it just a dream, life’s illusion; the cruel  joke of  fate

© 2009 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Snow of December

 

December’s snow falls upon us in the quiet.  Matters not be it day or night; the magic of that which be the snow. The tree's leaves white with new fallen snow; weighs heavy upon the branches.  The hush, silence, not even the wind dares to disturb.  The fireplace crackles with last year’s oak. Yet through the window is the picture waiting.   As pleasant be the fire so to is this picture that we see.  Off in our dream, like the falling of the snow with the fire to warm us.  But what of the dance of the snow flakes as they fall, that we see in our mind.  Be it then we are asleep and this be a dream.  Or can it be that the beauty of the moment has taken us where our feet can not go.  That snow fall in December its magic transformed, as are the burdened branches.  As two lovers lay by the fire that dances with the snow.

 

Inspired by Kuskulana 

© 2009 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul