Ad Venit II

Red and dim, a spark joins the first flame,
Silent and smouldering through voiceless winds,
A King is coming, though Caesar should reign,
A new Light ignites, casting to the skies,
The second blow of hope, now glimm’ring like eyes.
Two beacons stand, coloured for Repentance,
Two pillars now remain unlit, deep in thought they stand.

Wait, wait, the world has lived,
O’er Advent millennia long,
Weeping for joy that it shall at last,
Endure the Angels’ song.

Ad Venit

Darkness has gathered for thousands of years,
Gloom and death’s assembly summoning fears,
Of sins extinguishing the hope of God,
Crimes sharply demanding blood,
Nations driven together and temples overthrown,
Demon-gods, lashed and chained,
Burning forever on their throne.

A flaming sword, a pillar of fire,
Guarding the Tree of Life, leading God’s Nation,
Expelling and Summoning, power of the Same,
Inextinguishable Light shining o’er the darkness. . .

. . . We recall with one candle aflame.

End of a Promise?

When the King should summon me,
To step above this wasted world,
Would you then Love, willingly,
Surrender my heart and let me go?

When the link of our vows be unchained,
And I, your Treasure, through a lifetime guarded,
Long to abandon you for Love,
of God and you, to love you more,
Then might be our sacrament’s test:
‘Do you truly love me?
I love you enough to leave you.
Will you let me go?

Bittersweet Servitude

Swirling, dancing, pursued by the wind,
Riding the river, blown o’er the trees,
Thin as the starlight, and dense as the night,
Shifting forms of beauty and fright,
Ghostly mirages creating illusions,
Forming images of beings existing,
In men’s fearful fancy, though not of creation,
Or seeming to some to be fair wondrous creatures;
Hovering close, yet ever so far,
As to never be reached –
In an instant they’re vanished,
One second appear, for a moment stand silent,
Then heeding the whisper of the silky night breeze,
Living shadows, formed of mists,
Move onward to play their haunting dance,
Shift with a sigh of little regret, to return not again.

Wand’ring the windswept courtyards of heaven,
Conversing voicelessly with the Maiden of Moonlight,
Enslaved to their freedom to fly o’er the earth,
The fleet of the mighty Rain-giver, the clouds,
Proud servants of the Sun,
Look down from the sea which they alone sail,
And see their dark, earth-bound young brothers
|The Children of Mist – 
Obeying every wish of their master: the Windlord,
Ensnaring, enchanting, both beauty and dread;

They remember the life they each used to know,
Long to be freed from their task;
Yearn to play with the trees, and to ride with the river,
To waltz with the flowers and empearl them with dew;
And for the memory, shed many a-tear of regret,
Wishing to be again free without care,
Free from the Sun’s service to do as they would.

 Inconsolable, unshamedly weeping,
Never ceasing the while to be true to their duty,
For a long hour the clouds shed sad tears,
Renewing the life of the flowers they loved,
Filling the river upon which they had danced,
Quenching the thirst of unnumbered trees,
Watering the world which they knew so well.

When a new day dawns, the Sun-lord’s great eye
Looks over the oceans, the fields and the forests,
And slowly beckons to the still-swirling mist.
They eagerly race towards invisible stars,
And all are assigned, each one, to a place,
In the service of the Sun-lord,
To guard and patrol the realm of his daughter:
The Maiden of Moonlight.

He sees all the tears left behind by the clouds,
And thinks of the ranks in his army replenished;
Then warms and gives life to each jewel of water,
Lovingly raises new children to play,
And to keep the wind company in his long evening watch.

And through the long day, while they’re led by the wind,
The clouds look down on the world they have lost,
Then think of their duty, their honorable task;
Still remain loyal, and when memories bring pain,
They weep for a while, ’till their sorrow is empty,
And the essence of mist returns – as the rain.

A Poem…Five Years Ago

A pearled orb of sunlit stone,
On a course encompassing the world,
The lesser light to rule the night,
Across the sky since dawn of time,
On unceasing voyages has been hurled.

Like each of us, the moon can shine,
But it has a darker side:
Cold and dark, a frozen plain,
A broken surface, strewn with faults,
If not concealed: this lack of light,
Would any ever see by night?

O’er countless generations it carefully,
Makes sure its dark side is never seen.
It shines brighter than any star,
Yet does not boast, knowing it’s gleam
Like all gifts was given by God,
And if it has no light to shed,
It simply is not seen.

I can not help but wistfully,
Think of what our lives could be,
If we’d take an example from the Moon;
Never let others, our dark side see.

Short Note On Poems

Many people have asked me, “How do you write poetry?”

…I wish I knew.

I started writing poetry about the same time that Algebra started making sense. I never have planned out a poem, be it a 12-liner or a 10-pager (why my prose is so awful) and no thought really went into them until I was finished.

Start with a thought. An idea. Write a few words about it, decide if it sounds like the beginning, middle or end of a poem, and write around it.
Or do the reverse. I’ll often write something that ‘sounds’, and if it sounds like something writable I go with it.

The latest poem here was considered weeks ago. I wrote it in 5 minutes when I had nothing better to do. Seems to be like music. It plays/writes itself out, ends when it wants to, and the artist is just the tool.

The only shred of advice I’ve ever given is this: Start small. Think of the smallest thing you can, write a line that sounds like it and GO.
And write of something you know about or can visualize. The art should not tell anything; I don’t think it ought to show everything. The final piece should work on the reader’s imagination, say enough to make him visualize what you write, but write so he sees only that – vividly.

Light Between the Doors

Evening fell, the evening bell
Rolled out the hour and silent fell,
Stone and gold, which the Word hold,
Crimson glowed with the bell as it tolled.

Sounded again as tired men
Cast eyes up to the spire –
An archangel’s spear, the demons’ fear,
Of the guards that never tire.

Within the walls, dimming halls,
A watch I set with the candles’ flame,
A heart for a Heart, a love for true Love,
To understand further His Name.

And pacing the corridors seldom seen,
A light on the floor dimly shone,
Flung to the marble, a ruddy sheen –
Like blood on a long-ancient bone.

There were the doors – forgotten ways,
From a path behind the Throne,
Through the crack in the oak, the candlelight broke,
And I saw that He was alone.

There I halted a moment, and waited a while,
Seconds turned minutes to but a brief thought,
I was witness to places a millionfold built,
Wherein the only true battle was fought.

In the darkness still-standing I stood,
Seeing the glow through the wood,
And it seemed to me that I looked through a Tree . . .
. . . where Eternity lingered on.

Are You Lonely?

“Are you lonely child, or
Lost amidst a lengthening night?
I stand here timeless waiting for
You to speak to me, the Light.

Are you lonely, dearest heart?
Do you wish to rest secure?
Sleep in faith. About you are
My warriors shining from afar.

Are you lonely, love of mine?
Is your soul a holy shrine?
Therein my Heart will take abode,
If you will but have me.”

…If at night awake you lie,
Pray with He who chose to die,
In the Hour of Darkness; with Him take a part,
Give comfort to the suffering Heart.

Blood-Moon: The Eclipse

As embers blacken, smould’ring red,
Living fire from what was once dead,
First they grow dark, to burst into light,
So have we seen the Moon tonight.

It scorched by light’s absence,
Then ignited in the lonely undying cold.
Whispers across the cosmos bare,
Shuddered for fear, trembled the air,
And pale wights turned their mindless eyes,
To the star-struck heavens, though fearing the skies.
A tremour they felt and by fading light,
The warning was passed – “The Moon bleeds tonight”.

No blade nor shaft by one was seen,
To cause the fading of empearled gleam,
From radiance of ice to a fiery shell;
But the spirit groaned and faded to hell.
Wraiths turned about swiftly, gloating mid-flight,
Flew off to spread words – “The Moon bleeds tonight”.

The light which ever fluctuated slowly,
Now yields its pure beams to the fire and blood,
Reflecting the woes of humanity’s grounds,
For but this short hour, remorse it has found.
All peoples stopped living, were rooted in fright,
“How is it that this – the Moon – bleeds tonight!”

In those little moments, our history’s laid,
With light we percieve what our misdeeds have made.
From full shining glory, to fading then black,
From blackness to bleeding, what hearts we have lack,
And Fire! the Blood! What a fate lies ahead,
The misery, torment – Oh unholy dead!
So surely ye die! all fall in your plight,
And doom is so certain – The Moon bleeds tonight!

And Hope never finds us, if what skies portend,
Spoke wholly of fate, as if we could not mend,
What was rent by the first, who started the eclipse,
Still stand all! Heedlessly bound in watching the fall,
Every soul speechless views with delight,
The anguished moon rising – And bleeding tonight.

But hold. It passes, is fading away.
Mournful that the evil could not stay,
We move back to living, by hell bound no more,
And the souls are not transfixed as they had been before.
Oh foolish children, if only you’d seen,
What under the mysteries, all of these mean!

The passing of gory signs in the sky,
Speaks out that not all ever must die.
A coming is not an eternity,
But beginning has ended, and reading we,
Could know such a horror as this that you saw,
Was the passing of the ancient demoniac law.
From white, black and red, from living to dead,
And red then to black – life, but purity lack,
The moon’s a reflection – humanity’s soul,
As war is waged ever, eternally won,
So now is again reflecting the sun,
A pure orb glist’ning, both shining as one.

Though for a short while mankind was ablaze,
A-lost in the gore and the dread ruddy haze,
And yet it may fall back into ancient rites,
Always returns to as it was before,
You may know, all you warriors, God’s winning the war:
And search out the grace from Lucifer’s blight,
Rejoice and stand fast when the Moon bleeds tonight.