someday the light

The light has led the way to freedom, a power
that melted hardened hearts and iron chains.
The light that finds its kindred
in the seat of the spirit's throne-
the royalty of every man and woman- shines
from the inner flame, the fire of life.

It is the light that fills darkness
it does not lurk to howl and growl
and frighten the child in all of us.
it is a light of Love...

 I do not know yesterday it is the shadow of time
nor do I see tomorrow, for it is a page yet to be.
I believe in the joy of happiness, and that it  belongs to all;
someday the light and I will touch it.

Cloak and revelation

Dreams carry a spirit's touch
a conversation about sounds
a smile drawn from a time far past
a knowing glance that pierces time
like an arrow into the heart of knowing
existence extends from life and other ways to be.

There is a distinct familiarity in this first sight
been before but never, known in discovery,
owned and surrendered- spirit speaks
of the ordinary; ordinary is the cloak worn by revelation.
I sense, reason, and collect the grains of these moments
these sands withstand the winds of chance and change.

They stay, held in my willing palm, subtle alms
 given to my beggar's heart wanting to know, to feed
on this wisp of eternal reckoning; i watch the curl of lips
into a broad toothy smile, and i watch myself...

I wonder if there is a way, to find a day, one
 can repay such gifts as make life repeat its voice,
extend its breath and beat?
I think and think not, but feel
a deep inhale beyond air, into a deeper breath
pure and simple as that which has made me.

a bridge nearby

Crossing a generation with a touch, a smile,
and a soft word on a hard day; in the gleam
from a younger set of eyes comes moon glow
from these generous Suns.
Time traveled at the speed of light-giving Love.

Life moves over paths not yet made, through
dark storms, brilliant light, and unforeseen difficulty.
Unspent is this fortune we hold, whether purse deep or tattered,
the treasure held is precocious and rare.

Without Love,
life is a barren dream, without hope,
each day is a drying stream,
slowing to nothing, and flowing to nowhere.

There are moments that we wish to keep
but cannot hold, falling like sands through fingers
lost to whims of wind; yet, one can keep
the feelings shared, the pictures etched in the center
the heart- each grain, pure and unique.
It is a bridge nearby that links distant places.