Pathways

Dawn is yet still dark
from night of last
from summer's end
real cold is yet

The road ahead come
streams of miles
a hundred and more
to skid, to burn these tires

Morning should soon
be breaking the mind
with unformed paths
but only this heart

Albeit all fears
unknown chances, or surprises
and fear for decisiveness
I tear inside.

At last a beam, or two
of Light risen from heaven's
crowns give traces of hope
my sunken raft takes

I float now on glistened roads
swelling like clear rivers
unwavering icy and sleek
as everyday waits for winter

and so I speed with god of who
guiding that safe harbors
be reached. A lighthouse
beam signs a rescue

Then hues of orange and gold
of snow in the summer trees
remark to my heart's content
Love and miracles, pleasures remain.

He Holds

He hides
In furrows of his soul
His mind
Speaks to itself
Not for language
To share as
His heart
Repeats its longing
For the woman
Who yearns
The love only
He holds

She pines
In creases of her soul
Her pain
Ceases while he
Not let her wander
Through thick
Groves of dread
He murmurs
She heeds to
Love’s silent
Touch only
He holds