In the long lost hours of cycle time

That which we feel inside, emotion-wise

Is dragging,  pulling to the dark north

Of shadowed love and things disturbing

Where does the true compass faintly call?

Deep from the depths but ever fading – lost in the sad melancholy of hollow echoes

That murmur through eternal spirit nights?

A finger tip receding into gloom – a sense of friendships lost and grieving souls.

And still temptation gaily waves through painted arches

No strings or ladders back to call us home

The flickering senses, turn to smiling lights

Moth-like we slip and slide, and take the highs

Call me back to rivers old and sighing willows

Reflections turning in the fishy eddies

Reed birds and God’s prayers feathering up – and up

Straight where the swallows fleet and flight and heaven’s song.

Explore posts in the same categories: Redemption

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: