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