Never Ends

Wonder do I why this book is closed.  

Be it that what is written has ended.

That our eyes no longer see that 

which was the story told.

Fond memories our hearts now heavy.

Put not this book away for in your sorrow 

from time to time; visit the fond memories.  

There to find comfort within the pages 

Of that where the writing never ends...

©2013Words the Windows to the Soul    

  

Unknown

What be this thing which be known, yet unknown.  What be the answers to the questions, that all must face; but for fear, forbids the question.  Be the unknown so frightening that we wish not to know, or contemplate what this answer really means. Still it comes to each of us in that time we all must face.  Be it for lack of courage, or faith that we be blinded by that which has no light.  Yet to sit in this darkness, must not be the answer.  For if to live one must seek the answer which be the light; or in deep contemplation would not a swift end be the only way; to truly understand that which be unknown.... 

©2012 Words the Windows to the Soul....

The Bird’s Song

Life what be this thing we are brought into.  Are we just flesh and blood; or be it that all there is that which happiness brings.  It be said that what we seek, has and will be forever beyond that which has already been ordained    Yet we still believe that in us live that which be lives unchained.  When we ourselves carry the weight of our chains till our last breath taken.  Such be the simple things sight unseen; still we seek that which is not ours.  See you not  the beauty of the birds in flight, do they seek more.  Yet they go about their life in the blink of an eye; never knowing of their chains.  The beauty of the flower that stirs the soul.  It’s path chosen by that which be ordained.  But to what end the flower seeks but to live and bring its beauty.  Still we seek that which be not our path.  Given, yet not the achievement we seek.  Yet if we do not search what be the prize; a life free from hardship and pain.  Be it then we seek what the flower brings, and the bird’s song…

© 2012 Words the Windows to the Soul…

The Quest

The Quest

Magical, some would call it madness.  Yet those who do not dream; be this lack of vision, or the mind just refusing to see.  Two legs as if giant pistons in the heat of the sun.  Pain with the expression of "weakness leaving the body" ever onward the wheels turn.   Birds singing their welcome and encouragement.  Mile after mile the trees lend their shade to this quest.  Sights, sounds, and shade from the burning of the sun; the trees beckon me onward.  All that is seen and heard gives its strength to the giant pistons.  Can you not see the dream unfold, this mighty quest moving ever forward.  

© 2012 Words the Windows to the Soul 

Welded Iron

Welded Iron

Brother to brother for such a short time; and yet like iron.  As are the shortness of days when walked; we did together as brothers.   This iron welded, by the hand of man; yet could not be broken.  For the outstretched hand offered can not be turned away.  So to our hands like iron welded, which none can destroy, save one of us.  In this short time many trails we have seen, unyielding.  We stood not by that which is friend; but as brothers.  Still how be it that we did not know the broken trail would so quickly be upon us.  So great is the sadness of never seeing another new trail as brothers.  Still not knowing or seeing by those who would see not or know not of that which be that which is known.  Pity, for they have never known the true meaning of the welded iron of brothers...

©2012 Words the Windows to the Soul....

Heart

Heart

The dawn comes to waken me to a new day dawning.

    Beams of sunlight across the pillow lay, flowing as the water falls.  Think you this be not a painting.  For only I can see this

  wondrous work of art.  Softly sleeping is she that holds my heart.  I stare down in wonder at this early morning sight.  Yet I wonder, what is this power that sleeps so softly next to me.

I sometimes wonder what would be my fate.  If not for her by my side; what would have I become.  Who would calm my rage that ravages my night.  Would I continue the sweat and pain of that which is my work.  Could I have lived at all with this poison in my veins; without her gentle hand which guided me each day.  Just one

flash as our eyes met.  I would have climbed the highest mountain for her with just a smile to give.

Yet years turn to decades, time has turned to sand.  What then will happen when the crystal glass is empty. Standing alone without her eyes upon me. Frightening to even think of one day passing.  Would I wish another breath of life to take, for she that shared it is no longer there 

So gentle be the touch of this mighty spirit.  Yet all the years had passed and I thought myself strong.  For it was not my strength that told me of this power.  It was the beams of the sun that flowed as the water fell, across the pillow next to me.  For there in that bright sunlight, was she who held my heart...

©2008 2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

Summer’s End

 Crisp be this air as this summer’s end draws near.  Trees with their leaves; nature’s voice be heard.  Wish they not for this ending.  Yet no hand stops the season from turning.  Song birds in the trees feel this cold; as does the tree, her branches all but empty.   Barren the tree stands without a single comfort.  She knows nothing can stop that which be summer’s end. The song birds know full well that they must seek warmth.  So on winged flight the music and the songs heard no longer.  On winged flight they escape from this which is the seasons’ turn.  Still man wishes not to see for he feels the unknown fear of the season’s turn.  Yet man and tree be different.  As when the tree, with its leaves dieing on the ground; the tree knows the leaves will return and bring their beauty to the tree.  Man knows that with each season’s turn, death comes ever nearer.  So like the tree, man will stand barren, empty, and alone.  Yet what of these awesome sights that passed, season to season; the everlasting memory of summer’s end

© 2009 2011 Words the Windows to the Soul..