Shadows hold their secrets,
mind conjures in it beasts,
fear prowls within the darkness,
causing pulse to throb its cadence
to the anxiety's drum
over what is unseen.
Thoughts rise in their image language
towering to brain as a pyramid,
fleeting as the wind,
turning stone when carved from truth,
vapors when built by myth's mirages.
One can pitch a tent on sands of known
and be warmed by fire of wisdom's flame,
but the soul will wither in its light
if the sun is all one sees or feels.
For in the eve that covers within
the spirit glows by faith's candle,
shining upon the refuges
hidden beneath God's shade.
It is place, a sanctuary of enlightenment,
shelter and peace flowing from its eternal spring
that drowns panic's marauding phantoms
and gives one's heart rest
beneath serenity's inner palms.
While watching the nomads
on their pilgrimage towards the crumbling Mecca's of reason
carry their cargos of humanism's spices,
who always travel only by day
avoiding the serpents their traditions of blindness say
prowl and prey within the night's veil
of mystery and redemption.
Gold trophy winner
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