Ode To Tahoe

The water is clearer than the air, and the air is the air that angels breathe.

-Mark Twain

“…at last the lake burst upon us—a noble sheet of blue water lifted six thousand three hundred feet above the level of the sea, and walled in by a rim of snow-clad mountain peaks that towered aloft full three thousand feet higher still… I thought it must surely be the fairest picture the whole earth affords.”

-A distant relative of mine—Mark Twain

Should I stand perchance
and gaze upon your shore
while your waves they dance
—abrupt and still
where my thoughts 
shall spill forevermore.
 
I look so deep 
within your emerald depth
for as much
as what I seek
is likened to your clarity. 
 
And so it is
beneath a mirror 
—tinted zephyr
here I stood 
dreaming awake 
fifteen years to the day.
 
For my gladness 
you have given
and my wishes true
as your hue blue.
Though in your reflection of me
I will always see a storm-savaged sea
amongst these waves of tranquility.
 
Floated by your youth
upon a buoyant breeze
with your water and your sand
you took me by the hand.
And so I swam
through the depths of you 
so deep and blue
so tried and true.

BeLove © 2018

Waking Up

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

—Robert Frost

As of now
it’s getting late.
With the night
darkness does create
ebbed by all
looking to degenerate.

To sleep but a wink
is just a bit of imagery
while my eyes they blink
subtle hints of symmetry.

My mind it dreams
as it always has
widened awake
til left whereas
by my heart’s last ache.

It is in this pitch black beauty
I know I am blessed
but to see the sun
I must give it my best.
Then she came and I was left
stunned by her symphony.

Yet I see it still
stuck to the simplicity
with each lance of light
sifting through songs of sympathy
sung by a morning bright.

And those church bells they ring
singing me to sleep
while through my window
the light it slowly seeps
with an inspiration
spilled from a darkness deep—
lit by love’s jubilation.

So for those who wish to sing
they will always find a song
sung right here
in this wild little sing-a-long.

BeLove © 2019


The Task At Hand

And it is now that I see
the way You built for me.

A wise king winnows the wicked;

and drives the threshing wheel over them.

Proverbs 20 : 26

I will always walk

bound by the perpetuity

of two eternities—

one supposed the future

another once called the past

along this here eternal path.

 

Yet it is now that I see

the way You built for me.

Where my feet

they aim to meet

with an upright stride

as I walk away from yesterday’s pride.

 

It is true; it is You that I see

in the dawn of this coming light

and beneath Your glorious sight

it is my soul

You fill; for it feels so whole

as I bask within

this heavenly harmony.

 

So it is in this moment

in which I choose to spend

where I’ll leave it to the nick of time

should I find a hint of heaven

while I walk this endless line.

 

And never shall I ever

look at yesterday

nor upon tomorrow too,

But in this here with its now

or in the present,

I guess it leans upon

whichever way the moment went.

 

Yet instead of guess

allow me a promise to profess.

I now know You built this path

the one that spins with progress

like a wheel—I will turn it around

while I cover whatever ground

until it is me that I am certain I have found.

 

And it is this—that is all I can ask

within the mystery You gave my life

where so soon shall it all come to pass

as I look upon Your coming task.

BeLove © 2018


 

 

Scenic Route

There’s a lot of optimism in changing scenery, in seeing what’s down the road.

Follow me this way

where just around the corner

waits a brand new day.

It’s love that litters a road

so gold that it forever glitters

upon the most humbled of abodes.

 

It is but a place

as infinite as space

where conversation lasts

in the silence along His path.

And time it rests with essence

while innocence glows fluorescent.

 

We then come to find it filled

with wholesome laughs

that burst with joy—

from the faith that spilled

upon our feet

and what awaits is but a story

written forever sweet.

 

Yet upon the map of midnight

it must be seen that hope

—will always shine

forever in our sight

and beneath these stars

we are filled with a vibrance

built by His creative balance.

 

And all He asks

is to love all so very true.

This is but the final task

to taste the fruits

grown from a tree—a tree called life

where it grows at the end

of this long and scenic route.

BeLove © 2018


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Those Three Words

We came. We saw. We loved.

There are three words

that need not any glue

they look nothing like blue

and neither do you.

 

These three words

can make a world go round

unless those that wish it flat

well they get turned upside down.

 

The three words

I’d like to speak of

shall sing like a morning dove

that flies from Heaven above.

 

Think of three words

that do not rhyme

lest it’s divine

then these words

they shall forever shine.

 

Feel these three words

that make you feel whole

while they warm up your soul

for the sound of sweet rock-n-roll.

 

Say the three words

that always ring true

and let them simmer within

while you put away that glue.

Now just allow them

to breathe all the way through.

 

So here are three words

I’ll put them upon this marquee.

So as I count to three

repeat after me…

 

Vini.

Vidi.

Amavi.

BeLove © 2018


 

 

 

 

 

 

Where The Heart Lives

By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.

Proverbs 24 : 3-4

The heart it longs for home

and the ego will search

to the ends of earth

for the comforts of masquerading warmth.

 

But home is built around

the foundation within

while the soul scours the grounds

of hope’s lost and found

looking all over for the kind of love

in which a King is crowned.

 

This home—it does exist

in the realm of pure bliss

yet our deceptive mind

will send thoughts amiss

as the heart screams of loneliness.

 

You see the soul

will forever be an empty nest

if you don’t allow the Spirit

some satisfaction of steady rest.

 

For it is within the Temple of Self

that the Heaven we call home

sits with faith upon a shelf

framed within our being

He cleverly created without us seeing.

 

But the answer has long been hid

in those pleasures amid

the blowing grace of a capricious wind.

And this is when we learn

it is our soul that yearns

for the home of His celestial will.

 

For then and only then

comes a light that spills

upon a soul’s darkest end—

and in that little light within

love it will refill.

As a heart ascends

to the place

where home has always lived.

BeLove © 2018


 

Golden Shore

And they told him, “We came to the land to which you sent us. It flows with milk and honey, and this is its fruit.

Numbers 13 : 27

We are all but specks of dust

fallen from what lay above

left astray to find that one

to play this game they call Love.

 

Created high upon an astral plane

we dive dual—a broken flame.

Our souls but puppets

strung with glorious Grace

upon His golden shore.

This life but a stage

separated by nothing more

than the thoughts that rattle around a cage.

 

But it is what drips within our mind

—a hint of gold

paints itself upon our soul.

A nectar so sweet

for what once was dead

finds a new thread.

 

In the darkest of places

we must give the most light

fed with faith and starved of fear.

Then comes a voice

all shall hear

shivered loud—ringing clear.

 

Love it falls like a drip

eternal from a golden mind

trickling through your heart

comes a faith so kind.

For fed is the soul

flowing with milk and honey

from an oil so sacred

it keeps the lamp of Heaven

forever trimmed

and always burning.

BeLove © 2018


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As It Always Was

Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.

-Christ

I’ve always stood still

though tall in a shadow

scattered with fear.

Then came a window

left wide open

only to walk the tightrope in.

 

It is now the sands of time

through which I sift

into the direction

of the sun

my sights they shift.

 

In the beat of a heart

it all shines through

The love, the light, it’s in all of you.

Somewhere between

the rock and a tree and Love’s jubilee

I found you all

in the finesse of me.

 

But again came the call

from a distant squall

one I’ve heard

my entire life.

The one I now know

for I must follow.

 

It’s harmony that sings

in the joy it brings

through the gospel we hear

to make the choice

from a voice so clear.

 

It is as it is,

as it always was.

 

It echoes through eternity

down the path that guides me.

The divinity inside thee

has now become my reality.

BeLove © 2018


 

 

 

 

Potter’s Field

The crypt you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.

I climbed the fence

to old man potter’s field

where the fog hung low

just above the ground.

 

While I looked all around

those eerily empty tombs

this is what I found.

 

Where there stood

a certain headstone

void of a name

instead etched with inscription

’twas a bit of wisdom

written with a twist

and this is what that epigraph read:

 

“Remember me, as you pass by,

as you are now, so once was I,

as I am now, you too shall be,

so prepare for resurrection and follow me.”

 

With a pen and paper in hand

I left a silly note—

a small little anecdote:

 

“To follow you, I won’t consent,

for I do not know which way you went.”

BeLove © 2018