When
we were then
and only young,
we would climb
magic dreams, race
moonbeams
across promise streams,
swing on gates
wooden white
where green fields
mingled with our hair
and April breezes
became
our laughter’s smiles.
Uncertain of being,
you and me, we
became insane.
Our eyes filled imaginations;
where the heart-beat cuts,
where the mind-seat erupts.
All spirits evade
(and thus) we change
upon wild sweeping uncertainties
creating engraved arcs
upon an icy pond.
When words fall,
as pebbles upon the shore,
the soul learns the barefoot
dance of mourning
upon this breaking
water’s edge.
Here is God, revealed,
within the movement of a moment
where grace remembered
sings louder
than any waves of sorrow.
~r.
All rights reserved,
© September, 23, 2008 R.G. Braley
(astralshepherd)
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