poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
Perhaps My Love, the fire of faith is simply given
to fight against our cold blood, and the cruelty
of this world. As we offer ourselves
as sacrifices for sanity,
and love, burning
as a fire, our heart flame.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Green leaves reflecting, noble trees
as the ducks paddle quietly,
and in a deep breath
light speaks,
with an assurance that beauty
is the strength we carry
in this world.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Light dances on the ocean, little prayers really
for us to consider, purifying
our thoughts with the unlimited
being so deep and beautiful,
as the sky moves,
covering us with clouds pushed away.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Every candle lit, every lamplight we walk under
with a silent prayer
on our lips
is another stone to cross the river,
in the middle of the night,
walking on, stepping over
in spite of the dark.
Holding on, and moving
forward
our faith is born
in the dark.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
On the tree tops, where the leaves meet the skies,
where blue jays fuss, and robins gather
with a few sparrows
an offering lifted, the wind
carrying our prayer
with streaks of light
dancing through the treetops,
on a summer evening.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
A thin veil rippling, as the Mallard ducks paddle softly, silently
across the water, opening the reflection of the sky
just long enough for my heart to reach
through the green, then blue, with a prayer
for us all.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Created for light we were never given
a spirit of despair, but our damaged kingdoms
can be repaired as we walk into
the light of love, seeking the balm
of hope.
New life.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
