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..

The Family of Man

The Family of Man

What be this that we seek.  To know that love of family. Or love of the family of man.  We spend our time looking for that which be unknown.  When what we seek be that which our searching does not reveal.  Be it our own blood or that of our undiscovered family. 

Who is to say where or why we are chosen.  Yet as brothers and sisters brought into this world we know not each other.  Could one say that we are of the same blood; why then is our search not over.  What is this that we seek, the undiscovered family.

Yes, the family that is of our blood; but what of the care of the family of man.  Torn and tattered lay, cared for by whom if not one of us.  Yet are we so consumed with our own search; that we see not, those that may not be our blood . 

Brush away the clouds so that you might see, that which lay broken at your feet.  Bind up their wounds, for their battles be our battles.  Shelter them as a brother would his brother.  Feed them and dress them as you are.  And in this give them your strength.  Find you now that which was your undiscovered family.  The family of man, discovered…

©2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

The Tree line

The Tree Line

 

High above the tree line the mountain stands alone. To know the

peace of silence one must wish it so.  Hear these 

words I give thee.  Not all can bear the solitude to be one with the 

mountain. To witness the magic, one must breathe the air.  You say 

to me what manner of beauty exists in this, the thin air 

above the tree line.  I tell thee this until one sees the little flowers 

that cling to life that lay buried beneath the snow; till spring comes

and the water flows. The beauty seen, as if hands join each other in

the embrace of solitude.  Then one realizes you are never truly 

alone, high above the tree line; the Master Builder smiles, for His

gift given, the peace of silence which brings beauty to the soul

above the tree line...

 ©2008 2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

    

Man's Power.

Man's Power

What drives a man to seek such a task in the Autumn of his life. Be this which be the power of his soul; or the Light that guides him.  Bemoan we do of our life's path; yet to weather any storm we call upon that which provides the Light that guides us. Be it greatness we seek; or be it the power in his soul that will not surrender.  Down these lonely highways with only two wheels and our legs that move us.  Our body speaks wracked with the pain; of that which be the path chosen.  Yet the power of the soul ever onward moves us.  The Light of the soul; man's power will not yield... 

©2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

Homeless Veteran

 Homeless Veteran

Stand alone these men of honor, in the shadow of a tree.  Wonder you why does this man of honor stand alone.  Beneath this great oak; stands a man who stood when others would not.  Clothes tattered, as is his mind torn and shredded as he stands.  For this is one that heard his country’s call and he did answer. 

How be it then no one hears his plea.  This plea is not spoken, for his pride is greater than his hunger.  He seeks not charity nor a hand out. This man of honor stands waiting; for the remembering.  The demons prevent his sleep, his tormented soul sleeps upon the ground.  The leaves from the great oak tree are his pillow.  The news from yesterday covers him as if a blanket. 

Yet people walk by, no offer of help is made, just a scowl and a turn of the head. Uttering words as they pass by, but not loud enough for his ears to hear it. Cruel and harsh are these that have never served.  Yet enjoy they do the freedom, and fortune purchased by the blood of these men of honor.  These that heard their country’s call with no regard for life or limb.  And for this he is called, hopeless and a bum.

Thought of as an eyesore, a blight on the beauty of their city.  But I tell thee this that he is a hero.  For this man of honor be not lazy nor is he hopeless, nor a bum.  His demons may have damaged the mind.  But not the soul, his heart still beats with love of God and Country. Yet his name is added to that list of which be called the homeless veteran; and by our shame, the list grows ever longer.

©2009 2011 Words the Windows to the Soul 

Ride America

Ride America
The men and women that have worn the uniform of this great nation.  Have fought in the name of America.  Only to find when they return; another battle awaits them.  After facing death in combat; they must now come home and fight again.  For their families; and the right to support them.  Veterans come home to find no job waiting for them; just the debt of serving their county.  Still this be seen every day, families destroyed not by gunfire but by the lack of money. Hopeless, no the fight continues; I know this all to well, that is why Ride America must succeed.  It is said that the Veterans have lost their taste for fight.  Yet this is one Veteran that has and will not quit, ever; Ride America...

It has been said that I have to much experience for this job.  I have heard every reason that exists and still unemployed.  Yet I have not lost hope; for a challenge has been made.  And accept I shall, for this be something; or so I have been told, again  "you are to old, and out of shape"; and indeed in this my experience is somewhat lacking, as I have not been on a bicycle in 40 years. So Ride America I shall.  I have no trainer, trip planner, or anyone to locate sponsors.  Some will say I have lost my mind and indeed they have done so already.  Yet never tell a Marine or any Veteran  what he or she can't do.  

© 2011 Word the Windows to the Soul

The Whisper Comes

In the dead of night the anger, fear,and rage bursts forth; never really knowing why these are brought to me.  Yet inside my soul lay the answer buried; as are those that bring their anger.  Be this then the reason that they come.  Or be it that their words I can not hear.  Still in that secret place, they find me.  Yet out of the sleep of the dead I find no fear, nor any answers; yet I feel theirs. What is this feeling that I must join them; yet they turn away in the darkness; as the whisper comes.  

©2011 Words the Window to the Soul

Vows Broken

Vows Broken

Who can tell why or how one is blessed, while the other feels the searing pain of the blessing.  Young children ask why; yet there be no answers for them.  They too suffer the pain and sorrow.  Still they be to young to know why they feel this horrible pain.  To them all that is be confusion.  In that which is the joy of the blessing; can one feel blessed.   Or be it just pain of the others who suffer.  Blameless are these young ones, brought into the world with love of vows promised.  Yet be these young ones that suffer; when the love that made them, breaks.   Oh cry out the sadness when the blessing of the vows taken; brings the pain and sadness of Vows Broken

©2011 Word the Windows to the Soul....

Mile Posts

Mile Posts

As we walk our path; we pass the memories of our life.  The mile posts of each day speak their knowledge to us.  Be what we do with what we see, hear, and feel that matters.  What be it our mind will decide, that which will be important; the yellow flower, or be it the bird that sings its song to our soul.  Our path be of our own making that which is chosen to see, feel and hear be our choice.  Yet there are times when consumed by that which we seek.  We miss that which be most important; the hand looking for the touch of a caring soul.  So busy are we that we yield not our walk; to take pity on the poor soul.   To stop but for a moment to help, console, perhaps a kind word be all that be needed.  What then are we, will our humanity and the grace of the the Almighty give us pause.  For to save but one, have that which is our walk been delayed; or be it that we have just past another mile post....

©2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

The Veil Removed.

The Veil Removed

The darkness of solitude in that which be the abyss of despair; covered with a veil that no light may be seen.  Yet forget not your courage and seek that which be the freedom of the veil removed.  What is sought in this darkened place, or be it just shapeless figures of the mind.  Let not your heart and soul be darkened; for within be the power to reason and escape.  Beware the sadness of those whose strength would hold you.  For this be not your task; rip the veil.  Be it  then. those who would hold you can be saved should they wish it.  What be this this then that rips the veil.  Perhaps an idea, or be it just a new path.  Wish it not and locked in the darkness of solitude you will suffer many deaths.  Take the new path provided; or grasp hold of the new idea for within lay the power, and the light so bright.  Then you will know truly the veil is removed...

©2011 Words the Windows to the Soul.....

The mind of the warrior

The Mind of the Warrior 

Be the spelling of these words important; or does it matter not at all.  What be that  I do know that the mind is different.  We each fight our demons in our own way; yet the the demon be the same. Yes as many of the great poets I  too war in the mind.  Knowing not what or who I am; nor what time of day it is.  Yet to fight ever onward towards what; the warrior's soul seeks peace and yet we can not find if.  Be it the death at the hands of those who are before us; or do we just  select who shall be the one.  Be that which be the many; or just the one. For are we not as dead men waiting.  Our swords be shared and yet this be not enough.  Becomes there a time when we just give up to that which never wavers.. How do we as simple men decide this. To give up all in surrender of that which be more powerful. Or do we fight ever onward until that which is the mind of the warrior, decides that which be the final battle is won or lost...

©2011Words the Windows to the Soul


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Darkness Defeated

   Darkness Defeated

The mind be a dark place; when the monsters come. There are times when life looks back at you; be that when you ask what was it for; have I come to that crossroad.  Be it that my mind has deserted me; or be it that the time has come. As the sun in the morning rises, are there no answers; just another day of that which be the darkness.  Where is this place we sit and wonder; be this that which be called life.  Or be this just the darkness of the mind; where the terror hides.  Still we rise to our feet, once more to face this unending battle.  Life or death be this the only path.  Yet if we do not rise up, have we made our choice; or be it that the choice is not ours to make.  One wonders be this the mystery of life; that we no not when death comes.  If this be so then be it, like the sun; our hands can not stay the coming.  What of our will then; wherein lay our strength.  Be the monster defeated there.  Oh hear me now; matters not that the darkness surrounds; for what lay within can not be defeated.  Let the light of your soul smash the darkness, let not your heart be troubled.  For against the light of faith and hope nothing can stand.  So rise up and good be the fight with darkness defeated...

©2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

One is Born, One is Taken

One is Born One is Taken

Cry out joyously for a new life has come forth into this world.  Yet with the coming of the sun, one is taken.  What sorrow be this that comes with a new life; and yet know we not of the joy. Who amongst the family of man can know what comes with the sun.  What manner of understanding; can share joy and sorrow with the first breath of this which be new life.    And yet the sorrow ever painful stands as does the shadow in the mist.  Unseen we know not of this pain, until we ourselves see, feel, and are touched by that which be the cold breath.  Still we rejoice in this new life ever forward.  Not knowing of the sadness; still the new life restless.  In but a day be this possible; or be it just the babes reaction, without the touch of the mother.  Oh new life feel you this pain without knowing, wish we that this be not so.  We that have lived understand little of the mind of this life.  When one is born and one is taken...

©2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

For Eric..... 

Four Children

Four Children

Who be these that no not the color of their skin.  At play in the sand near the waters edge on this hot summer's day.  Yet they no not of the heat; just the laughter of each others' voices.  Still they realize not the difference of their birth.  Mothers lay on the beach chairs with book in hand.  Always a watchful eye on the four children playing.  Toys in hand, hard at work on their castle in the sand.  No care given to whose toy is in the hand; just the knowledge of the castle built.  Still where are the fathers; one wonders why they sit in their solitude; drinking their wine.  Soon the fathers and mothers with the peace shattered, no longer do the children laugh.  Consumed by what has destroyed that which was their peace.  One by one they leave as their parents call to them; leaving the castle unfinished.  As now somehow they realize one from another they be different.  Sadly the lesson learned of the color of their skin is apparent.  Yet they yearn to finish what was begun in peace and laughter by four children.  Perhaps someday the parents will learn from the children; and finish the castle...

Inspired by Mary

© Words the Windows to the Soul

Wounded Dreams

Wounded Dreams

Was it so long ago your touch felt.

Fingers gently your hair once held

Yet far from you I knelt, cursed;

standing in this melted sand.

No one to hear my scream.

  Just a memory left, unfeeling

be there no understanding. 

  Nor mercy of memory held;

still I wonder will that which was mine

shall remember the touch felt

© 2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

Words

 

Why do you wish so much pain upon me, that your house be set against mine. Where be it said in this time most modern, that we must war against each other. Or be it out of respect that we bleed for words written 4000 years past.  How do we tell the dead, of why or how they died.  Do we say to them that written words caused your death; words handed down from father to son.  No this can not be why they died, for men make mistakes and this be true. How can we say no mistake was made; before a pen in hand yet taken.
So in tablets of stone letters where written.  But letters change as do the words. Down through the ages language not spoken, for no ear lives from that time now past. Can we really be this sure enough to send men to their death over words not heard as ions passed.
Perhaps then we should talk before we begin again to war upon each other. In your house or be it mine; would breaking bread be not better.  For if in this one act of kindness shown, would our hands be the hand which will stay the slaughter. Would not these words of peace be greater gift given; from a father to his son...

© 2008 Words the Windows to the Soul

Passage

 Passage 

 

Why sit I in such a place where no sound is heard. Where is the light that will wake me from this endless night of fear.  Walk not near the empty room that has no cup, bowl or spoon. For thirst ye shall and stomach empty will thy reward be if you should enter here. See not this door as you pass by, no latch lock or hinges. Fear ye this door to open, or behind it you will see, the emptiness that lies there. Enter not this empty place; in which nothing lives for we see thee not here.  Pay you no heed to the words of which I have spoken softly. Heard you not the warning that I gave when I told you to keep walking. Heard thee then the other voices calling in the wind that bid you to enter here. Be not a fool my friend and ask of me to enter. Rather listen to warnings given for I tell you true. That if ye open this door, will not for thee again. And all that you find is like that  which I have spoken . No food or water just your bed; afraid, cold, and alone in this your forever rest.

© 2008 Words the Windows to the Soul

Hope

Hope

Flicker does the candle in darkness. The flame kisses the air; and gives light to the room.  Yet then why brings us not what we seek.  Or be it that we know not that which is sought.  Still the candle burns and lights our journey.  Where be we bound and what do we seek.  Oh candle speak, that we may not lose hope; as we walk in this darkness surrounding.  Wonder do I will the candle's light burning extinguished; by that which be the unseen wind.  Thus the end; for without light can we find our way, journey uncertain.  Fear not, oh ye that has hope; for that which be unseen will not put out the true light of hope...

© 2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

Steps

Steps

As we walk in this the winter's blanket;  our steps in the snow last for but a little while.  So to life's foot print that shows the path we take.  Winter's wind blows and the steps are swept away; as if not a single step made; so to that which be the winds of life.  Wonder do I if the steps we take in life will hold against this mighty wind, when our winter comes.  Or will the steps fade as those left in the winter snows. Be life's path so simple; matters not what direction taken.  just that we must take that which is given; or perish in that which be the cold of winter 

©2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

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DarkHorse

3/5

Far from home on this distant land; a mighty green sea stands.  The waves on the shore crashing like thunder from above; so to the hoofs pounding of the dark horse. Death ever present, so to the danger real be.  Evil know you not what stands before thee as the thunder roars.  Killers of women and children; have you no fear of what lay in thy path.  Fools thou art for this mighty green sea stands;  for those whose knees made weak by oppression.  Hearts and minds made weary with the fear that this evil brings.  Fear not, for that which be the dark horse stands, ever ready.  Yes, we have felt the sting of death's tears; fight we ever onward;  for those whose tears flow no longer.  Fools have you no idea that the death you sought be upon thy head.  The  bitter tears ye shall feel will come when the dark horse rides.  Seek ye peace and it will be given.  Still thou seeks death, so be it then.  Oh ye cowards, you come in the darkness with your death; yet even darkness will not stay the hand of this; which be the mighty green sea.  Seek peace, thus the dark horse will halt; seek death and the dark horse will ride; like the waves of that which be this mighty green sea.  For the women and children, the sick and weary are in the the arms of the mighty 3/5 known as the DarkHorse

Dedicated to the United States Marine Corps. The Officers, Men and Women of the First Marine Division Third Battalion of the Fifth Marine Regiment and the Naval personal that fight with them...

© 2011 Words the Windows to the Soul

Soul's Mystery

Soul's Mystery 

Be it known what troubles seek us, answers then simple.  We are a complex creature, love, hate, beauty and the ugliness of man.  Yet be this not us, truly then we are as fools.  For this creature knows no end nor the depth that is love.  We weep for that which we have not: mortal man can not understand the mystery.  Each path taken is filled with passion, perhaps be this not the passion sought; yet do we not embrace it, do we dare to turn from it.  For be this the one chance to really see, to touch, to allow others to see that which is our soul, unguarded.....

Inspired by Chris
© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul 

Feed The Soul

Feed The Soul

Man, what does he seek; he searches yet he sees not.  Be it wealth that he would dig, till his hands bleed.  What does he search for; the gold that comes from the ground.  Or be it his true wealth unseen.  To listen to the wind with words unspoken, yet the understanding is there.  Be this place that which no man has laid his touch.  Oh see you not the red tail hawk flying, nor the great bear standing.  Cry out the joy of air unseen and the smell of fresh water without man’s poison.  The small fire burning, with the day’s catch cooking, can your mind not see the peace that comes with the silence, uncorrupted.  To live with the land and to destroy nothing; this be the gold that feeds the soul. 

Inspired by Janet

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

A Good Man

We know not of His ways. As the  love of a good man, how does one judge this? Be it in the vows taken and never broken. Or be it just a "right living" man? Who is to say; I have no answer for you. For as the sands blown by the winds of time; what really happens to us. We think, and seek to control; truth be known we control nothing but our soul. If this soul is of light; then that which be your heart and mind will follow the brightness.  You will then know what love truly is...

Inspired by Pam

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul

Heart and Soul

Heart and Soul

I have no words that can assuage your anguish,  however looking in the past, is harmful even be it a loved one.  You must now after grieving move forward.  In looking to the past you will lose your way and stumble.  You eyes, soul, and heart is every thing you have.  Do not waste it.  Your loved one would not want you to linger, in the darkness of the great abyss.  This place will destroy you; the hallways of your mind  will be your only friend.  In this place there is no hope, nothing to build upon as you are in the darkness of despair.  Look to the light and find your comfort there, and with the comfort; be of good courage that the Almighty will love thee.  Find a place in your soul and begin to heal it, painful, yes, but move forward and let the darkness flee.  Then the light shall return to thee; call upon the Almighty and He will send His healing mercy like a gentle spring rain; and ye shall be refreshed.  And soon the past will fade; His light shall take its place. As the Brightness of His light shall begin that which be the healing of your heart and soul.....

For Cat

© 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul