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..

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


 .

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.....