The Lament

My strength is gone and duly spent,
My labors made in vain.
Into the void I now lament,
For no one sees their pain.

A lonely figure scales the mount
With empty book in hand.
There are no royal names to count
Their lines will not expand.

An arrow fires from shadowed bow
Upon the lighted peak.
It beckons far and calls the Low,
The Patient, and the Meek.

O lesson well and wisely taught
Stay with them to the last,
That all the grief their follies wrought
Will dwindle in the past.

O vanity, mislead no more!
Do not enslave the Strong!
Wake up your hearts and voice the score
To the rhythm of His Song!

Dear Lord, Your mercy lights the way.
Smile on them as they come.
Exalt their highways, their thirst allay.
Your love will lead them home.


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“Your patience, son, I now require,
Towards those who take my name.
For even though some hear the lyre
You still must fire the flame.

“The time has come to walk the stage
And give the Gentiles light.
I’ll hold thy hand if you engage
To wake them from the night.

“Discourage not, ye shall not fail
I stretch my hand towards all,
And giveth breath to those who flail
Redeeming from the Fall.”

The Sitting Children

Come, let us dance, the world's not so base
That wé cannot joy in her beauty and grace.

Come, let us cry, the world's not so cold
That wé cannot mourn for our ancestors old.

The Dream Keeper

Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.

I will keep them all safe,
Your dreams,
Until the day
You call for them,
When you decide to sing,
And play with me
The jazzy tune
Of your heart.

The Flood

Blood has been harder to dam back than water.
Just when he thinks he has it impounded safe
Behind new barrier walls (and let it chafe!),
It breaks away in some new kind of model.
We choose to say it is bound by the devil;
But power of blood itself releases blood.
For a time it endures but becomes such a flood
Held low at so unnatural a level.
It will have outlet, the branch reaching brave.
Sons seeking hope and fathers for peace
Are but the points at which it finds release.
And now it is once more the tidal wave
That when it has swept by deep valleys stained.
Oh, blood will out. It cannot be contained.