Words the Windows to the Soul ©2010 2011 2012 2013: March 2011

Friday, March 18, 2011

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

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

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...

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

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.

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...

Saturday, March 5, 2011

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