This is an Isle of Tides –
this fruited place offered those
who followed one
still small voice –
where metaphors abound at sight of
crashing waves on rocky shore,
ancient ruins standing forlorn
on a hill,
and paths worn deep that lead
we are not sure.
On this isle
of our own choosing
we are robed in the homespun
simplicity of truth
and all our world spreads afar
in common grace to live at peace
with the master of the tides
and we trust in him
lest trust false-based on lesser things
prove frail and doubt prevail.
Crying a myriad of wonders
the fishing birds exalt
as tide extends the shore
and honeyed sands reveal the footprints
indelible
we follow so willingly
to the endless end.
Yes, metaphors abound,
but here it is we live actual –
if we live
on this Isle of Tides
Author notes
A meditation on the album Ilse of Tides, by Edens Bridge, 2003, UK
Comments
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Despite our slight disagree in the past, you do write poetry. Oh, forgot n adjective there: 'great'. I have not heard the album nor band (while I enjoy celtic music and metal, I have prefered neofolk more, lately), I do plan to look into them.
As for the poem:
If one could imagine pure simplicity and truth being infinite, then the world is just as pure as before it bore life. Yet, this isle traps memories and history and wills the people to accept peace.
To my knowledge, "exault" is not a word, but I may be mistaken.
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this is a very good write from you. you made me think. thank you for sharing this with me today and i am hoping to read more from you in the very near future. viyanna rosemarie
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