Monday, March 30, 2015

The Plea

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

And then one spring the caged bird sings
The wind is swift and the light supreme
and the call is carried to the free bird's ears
so he goes to find the sound.

The caged bird flies
to that distant hill
and the free bird sees
there are caged birds still
so he seeks the sound
of the imprisoned trill
for the free bird
wants their freedom.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

The Folly

Beneath the rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the Family sleep.

The breezy call of desert-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the pine-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewives ply their evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of our poor.

I see you Proud, those now who bear the fault,
The Memory o'er their tombs great trophies raise,
Where o'er the mountains and the shadowed vault--
Your apron bears the venal badge of Praise.

Ye Watchers in your Ivy Towers hide,
You quench with blushes of ingenuous shame,
And heap the pile of Luxury and Pride
With dousing mist aimed at the Muse's flame.

Your boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all their wealth e'er gave,
Cannot avoid the quick and coming hour.
Your paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

Surely in the hallowed spot is laid
Some hearts once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands that the rod of iron might have stayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page
Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;
Chill Curses blocked their dances on this stage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Their lot forbade: not circumscribed alone
With growing virtues. But their crimes confined;
Forbade to wade from folly to a throne,
Thus shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never fly astray;
Beyond the cool sequestered veil of life
They keep the humble tenor of their way.

Many a gem of purest ray serene,
In dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Yea, many a limpid flower calls, e’er unseen,
And wastes her sweetness on the desert air.

Their name, their years, hailed by the fearless muse,
The place of fame and elegy to bring:
And holy text around her call she strews,
That teach the gentile masses how to sing.

On some third son a parted soul relies,
An atoning act the stated vow requires;
And from the tomb an outcast father cries,
To quench the fever of his wonted fires.

And now I seek his merits to disclose,
To draw his frailties from their dread abode,
And in his strength recovered hope propose.
I claim the kin of promises bestowed!

Thursday, March 26, 2015

The Family

Hey brother! There's an endless road to rediscover
Hey sister! Know the water's deep but blood is thicker
Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you
There's nothing in this world they wouldn't do

Hey brother! Do you still believe in one another?
Hey sister! Do you still believe in love? I wonder
Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you
There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

"What if I'm far from home?"
Oh brother, we will hear you call!
"What if I lose it all?"
Oh sister, we will help you hang on!
Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you
There's nothing in this world we wouldn't do

Hey brother! There's an endless road to rediscover
Hey sister! You can still believe in love and wonder!
Oh, though the sky came falling down, for you
There's nothing in this world we wouldn't do

We know you're far from home.
Oh brother, I have heard you call!
You needn't loose it all.
Oh sister, I will help you hang on!
Oh, since the sky came falling down, for you
There's something in this world that we will do!

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

The Manifestation

And it shall come to pass, that if the Gentiles shall hearken unto the Lamb of God in that day that he shall manifest himself unto them in word, and also in power, in very deed, unto the taking away of their stumbling blocks—And harden not their hearts against the Lamb of God, they shall be numbered among the seed of thy father; yea, they shall be numbered among the house of Israel; and they shall be a blessed people upon the promised land forever; they shall be no more brought down into captivity; and the house of Israel shall no more be confounded. And that great pit, which hath been digged for them by that great and abominable church, which was founded by the devil and his children, that he might lead away the souls of men down to hell—yea, that great pit which hath been digged for the destruction of men shall be filled by those who digged it, unto their utter destruction, saith the Lamb of God; not the destruction of the soul, save it be the casting of it into that hell which hath no end.

The Call of the Dove

Sunday, March 22, 2015

The Record

I searched for treasure of my soul
Its hue and luster, breadth and height
Escaped my recent mem’ry’s light

Although I knew with wisdom’s eyes
The value of the gilded prize,
Its true Creator kept His name
Away from sight and worldly fame.

The teachers of my youthful days
Had kept me from this errant craze
Of seeking truth and mystery
Beyond the fruit of Knowledge Tree.

Their words as chains stopped my advance
And held me in a clouded trance
Until at last, I turned and plead
For mercy, towards the Light ahead.

The bonds released, I tarried through
Beyond the mainstream of the flue
Past greed and envy, pride and wrath
‘Yond sloth and lust I took the path.

Through gluttony and guilt and fear
And then past doubt. My prize was near.
The vices left as I did pray.
It seems One took them all away.

The cavern opened to a place
Where time extended into space.
The things of “Yore” and “Yet-To-Be”
Joined “Now” in synchronicity.

While curious eyes absorbed the view
I saw the object float as dew,
Descending down ‘til it did land
Into my open, out-stretched hand.

“What is this gift, this artifact…
A pearl that cost cannot exact?”
I thought and studied while I prayed
To know how my antique was made.

When came a man into my view
Who asked, “May I take that from you?
Ah yes,” he stated, as I shared,
“A find that cannot be compared.”

“I’d like to study, if I may,
This relic from another day.”
With my permission he escaped
Into a room with windows draped.

A crowd of people now amassed
To hear the tales of ages past
Belonging to my treasure found.
The roads it lit. The heads it crowned.

The language and the words he spoke
Were hid from me. They wore a cloak.
And even though I failed to hear
The others held the stories dear.

To them the heirloom’s song was sung
Unspeakable in mortal tongue.
And each one’s panoramic view
Spoke something different, something new.

I cannot tell you this for sure
Because the words were in a blur,
But I suspect the golden ball
Had once been carried by them all.

The gathering was at an end,
So I walked right up to my friend.
I realized now to see his face
That his did differ from my race.

From men of caves he looked to me
(A member of the Cherokee).
I saw his stature was a good
Two shoulders taller than I stood.

His face was stoic, creased and long.
I heard my own voice in his song.
With hopeful heart I bade him near.
“There’s something that you need to hear:

“The Elders have come unto me.”
“Hmm, so it is,” he said. “I see!
Now I admonish unto you:
Receive the Eagle Feather true!”

And when these words came from his lips
A star appeared with seven tips.
Surrounded by a circle too,
It then rescinded from my view.

His invitation to procure
My ordination was secure.
But where could I locate the charm
Extending from the eagle’s arm?

“I’ll tell you what,” he smiled. “A deal.
If you can catch me I’ll reveal
Where it is found, though I must say,
It’s not so hidden anyway.”

The game was on! I gave him chase.
We ran in circles ‘round the place.
He dodged me and he laughed with glee. 
(Perhaps ‘cause of futility.)

A final leap and he was caught,
But inside of his cloak was not.
Across the room he called my name,
“It looks like you have won the game.

“I’ll tell you where the feather’s found.
This deal we made, I’m promise-bound.”
He said, “You’ll find the prize you seek…”
My int’rest here was at a peak.

Now something happened then, I’ll say,
Which makes me grumble to this day.
The story ended, I awoke
Before I heard the words he spoke.

I stopped to ponder on the dream.
“It may not have been what I seem
To think it was. I cannot lie.
I never actually caught the guy.”

And so the waking hours I spent
Still chasing after what it meant.
Who is the feather I want most?
A hidden saint? A holy ghost?

My questions circled round about.
The certainty becoming doubt.
And then a friend came by my side
Who helped me comprehend my pride.

“Now, running after gifts for you
Is selfishness and it won’t do.
So to receive the Master’s will
You must slow down and then be still.

Return to charity and grace.
By doing so you’ll see God’s face.”
It’s merciful my friend was sent
To tell me how I should repent.

And so I took his words to heart.
The wild goose chase did depart.
Enlightenment came over me
And visions of eternity.

In comprehending what I write
There is one thing to see the light.
I ask that you would clear your doubt
And any fear that lurks about.

Choose now to think how it might be
To gaze into eternity.
The unbelief can close a door
Of understanding love and more.

I promise if you open up
With child-like hope, and drink the cup,
Truth’s waters will refresh your face,
And take you to a holy place.

The other thing that you must see
Is God deals in veracity.
He takes the symbols we explore,
When we believe, He’ll show us more.

Within our lives we’ll view His plan
The emblems of the earthly man
Will be revealed! And we shall see
How they take shape for you and me.

Our fathers soon must hear the Word:
"Your name, son, has been conferred.
The Book of Life now bears your brand,
So enter in the Promised Land."

Friday, March 20, 2015

The Chiasmus

The Chiasmus

Look up, I look up at night
Planets are moving at the speed of light
Climb up, up in the trees
Every chance that you get
Is a chance you seize
How long am I gonna stand
With my head stuck under the sand?
I'll start before I can stop
Before I see things the right way up

All that noise, and all that sound
All those places I have found
And birds go flying at the speed of sound
To show you how it all began
Birds came flying from the underground
If you could see it then you'd understand.
Maybe you'll see it and you'll understand?