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FARTHER INTO THE SELF
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JOURNAL#31 poets are
warriors of an ancient rhyme
survivors afterward
in the field
soldiers even
and sometimes refugees of their very own ideas
illuminating the strange
whether dry by the road
or dead in the wind
they foster
the greatness of inner conflict
mining the hour glasses for their grains
finding a place
for the misfitting pieces
that pile at the side lines
of every day living
falling into one's faith
the pen becomes a well preserved paddle
and the boat itself is adrift in the
word storm
that one must untangle from its faulty mental
mooring
a fumbling fiction for some
a rambling adventure at the heart of
experience to the grace of others
there should be no guilt in love or learning
the pathing stones are lain bare
man walks in the path laid by the Lord
some just choose to jot out of the lane
never thinking about even the tiniest
step
far too fearful of their very own tread
blessedly
humanity's screams are not always louder
than the whispers of one's soul.............
(written Feb 18, 2007 415am)
