For me, penning poetry is a catholicon for the soul, and often brings about catharsis even as gale force winds blow. Its an endeavor requiring a symbiosis of discipline and creativity; adherence to strict rules and cadence in painting with words - to achieve, in the end, a piece powerful enough to mute the discipline of its framework. Given the experiences of the past few days, no sleep would come last night until Millions of Moons was complete. And since my portfolio at Writing is full, you folks are stuck with it here. LOL! Thinking of those suffering at Ft. Hood as well as all my friends and loved ones today, especially as the wondrous celebration of Easter approaches. Be good to yourselves and one another. MILLIONS OF MOONS Millions of moons, each and all come and gone... how many more yet to pass? Under them, man standing naked, alone, until he learns well and at last that he is not now, nor ever will be, tantamount over the earth; true greatness lies in the things he cant see, by all-knowing Hands given birth. Knowlege eluding mans questioning mind, keenly sought to be made his own; mans mortal eyes to its sovereignty blind, its rightful Possessor unknown. In purest simplicity, answers abide, hidden away in plain sight... waiting for man to set ego aside and bask in Gods unfailing Light. Discovering in its warm, peace-filled glow that mystery and pain, in due time will pass and their purpose he will soon know; his destiny finally divined. Millions of moons, each and all come and gone, how many more, unrepentant, until we transcend the hatred and wrongs - at peace... and in that, resplendent?
Posted on: Thu, 03 Apr 2014 19:01:14 +0000
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