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Poem
this barren page, screaming, crying
	yelling through the winds,
		inviting me to begin again,
always, to just begin
	again and again, tempting my pen
tempting me to just begin, begin
	A G A I N

this infertile soil, empty page – white as snow,
innocent and fragile, waiting
for my soul to pour out its dreams, its hope, its prayers
	words softly spoken, phrases sometimes broken,
		tenderness in melancholic stories,
			remembering, the light

promising my heart, my soul, my life will remind me why
the words, they start to flow… echoing dreams,
praises and grace, combinations of darkness and light,
flowing through the night on star strewn skies,
climbing picket fences and fighting defeat, death
like a weary wound, shadowed by dread, 
inspired by the hues of laughter, the hues of silence
falling from my head…

this quite page, devoid of sentences, a wasteland
meant for the intimacies
	cloudless memories, fresh soil
		adventures, gentling the feelings,
			blessings as fertile as the Sunday morning
prayers, praises, amazing – grace and faith,
	assurance that God Himself will destroy the shadows
		with poetry and prose meant for moments
like these, moments of stirrings, like winds
soaring on the music of an overburdened storm,
destinies fulfilled
	and destinies grown
by sunsets and silence,
	joy and kindness,
the touch of a light who bleeds
beyond the yesterdays,
into the memories, into the everlasting
	seeds of dandelions,
		bursting from the curling, twisting
ache of a life who believes
beyond this blank page is a startling scene,
a revelation, a seed…

planted by the spirit who can see
past the meaningless verses
to the vision…

vacant, the page – it is intimate and caresses the spirit
with a future life, a life who is created
by open hearts and fresh ideas, 
sentiments, seeds of graceful aches,
grains of gladness, abiding in the visions,
verses erase the darkness with the mourning
of a new dawn, a new hope, a new light
	flowing from the heart who can see
		the heart who just believes

in this sea of broken words, the dream
that breaths quietly,
	stirring the light of a love inside,
		a love for words, a love for poems,
			a love for knowing…

in this barren page, are seeds of blessings
meant for the g u s h i n g stream
	flowing from the soul who simply believes
		the God who gives and takes away,
			the God who stirs hope and faith
				the God whose love and grace…

inspire the soul and the pen,
	move the moon to shed its light,
		so the night grows quiet amid the burning embers
			of a dream meant to fill this barren page of hope…

for the words that turn up 
when the muse is heard,
when the reflections are burning
	a trail of light that never dims.

… trail of lovely words, lovely feelings, love that never ends
	because they are sent by the winds of fire,
		poured out on the breath of internal infernos,
			fires of everlasting,

the joy that comes from carving a dream into the bareness.
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