Tell Me, Knight

A serpent’s hiss from an oozing pestilent mouth,

” What weapon will you choose, when you come to challenge me in the dark?”.

“What armor will guard your soft organs from my jagged claws, my ripping fangs?”.

“Will the heft of the axe comfort your approach?”.

“Perhaps the keen bright edge of a well honed blade?”.

“Will you come with the stride of a gun’s weight on your waist?”.

“Tell me, Knight!”, the Thing gleefully, horridly cackled, certain of It’s victory.

The Warrior stepped from shadow with barefoot, silent tread.

No armor betrayed his approach.

No axe or long knife encumbered his hand to ring off the stone walls.

No gun unbalanced his gait on the rough ground.

Striking the small light he held in his left hand, he stood before the Thing.

“What madness is this? The thing spat, coiling in surprise.

Calmly, without anger the Warrior spoke.

“No madness, I’ve carried with me all I need.”,

“A heart without fear.”,

“A light to find the path.”,

“A glass to reflect the truth.”.

The polished glass in his right hand, raised aloft,

caught the Thing’s eye for but a heartbeat,

it was enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sunrise Prayer

I prayed a prayer for you today,

as the Sun rose over the pines,

and watched it float aloft,

on alabaster wings of love,

knowing not what vast expanses,

what cosmic abysses,

it must traverse,

while on It’s journey,

within my soul,

not the tiniest seed of doubt grew,

from the seamless faith,

that It reached It’s far destination,

even as the words left my mouth.

 

 

Weight of days

When more days lie behind you

than those that wait ahead,

each one on it’s passing

leaves behind a weight,

 

It presses not upon the muscles

nor upon the bones,

This weight of days I write of

is borne upon the soul,

 

Moments grow to hours

hours become days,

No earthly scale I know of

tells the measure of their weight,

 

It equals not to bricks

cannot be matched in stone,

It’s value may be that of lead

or surpassing even gold,

 

It’s worth I cannot tell you

it is you who must decide,

it’s total sum reflected

in the wrinkle, scar, and line

 

 

 

 

Dirt Road Magic

The magic of dirt roads,

is that they take you places,

pavement never will,

 

It is only,

along these gravel tracks,

lost youth can be found,

hiding playfully within,

the fields and forests,

 

Here alone,

first loves wait,

to be remembered,

among the roadside flowers,

 

On these rutted lanes,

wisps of dust,

set free to dance,

with the warm breeze,

wear fresh faces,

passing years have,

blurred in memory,

 

Nowhere else,

by no other path

can this spell,

be woven,

be cast.

 

 

 

 

 

Congratulations! (a diatribe)

I’d like to take a moment

and acknowledge the enormous success

achieved by those magnates of

modern industrial society.

 

The battle was by no means an easy one

opposed by truth at every turn

motivated by nothing more

than the desire for financial gain

 

What stunningly ingenious fabrications

cut from whole cloth

how reasonable their presentation

made them appear

 

Integrity, morality, ethics

unhesitatingly sacrificed

on a golden altar

in the name of wealth

 

What glittering wonders

of technology

sold at exorbitant prices

you can afford to buy!

 

Still, with overflowing billfold

what coinage is required

for the washing away of stain

from a corrupt heart?

 

 

 

 

 

Release

As the scales begin to tilt

and more days lie behind me

than those ahead

My thoughts wander

as they more often do

to those I’ve known and loved

whose names can no longer

be found in the book of life

I mourn the empty spaces they left

knowing those places will remain

dark and silent within me

I mourn my loss

Should I mourn theirs?

Their lost worry?

Their lost fear?

Their lost suffering?

Rather I rejoice

in their loss

in their release

 

 

 

 

 

Knowing One’s Self

To know One’s Self,

is a lofty goal, rarely reached.

We look into a mirror,

and flatly deny what it reflects.

We proclaim that we have no answer,

when our fear left the question unasked.

We justify our wrong action,

with excuses we don’t believe.

We take comfort in our ability,

unmatched by any species, to deceive ourselves.

How few among us,

will accept what is to be seen?

Will voice the question,

aware that though the answer may be painful,

ignorance is intolerable?

Will freely take responsibility,

for each of their actions?