Before the midnight hour chimed
A white wolf crossed albescent snow
And saw me with its diamond eyes
Shining right into my soul
I miss the woods where Dad and I
Sat by the coppice of conifer trees
The warmth of the winter sun piqued my mind
Nature’s aroma wafting in the breeze
The years have eased the ache of loss
And let the Northwoods live once more
White snow, warm meals, and paths we crossed
Return like footsteps to my door
For every memory, I give thanks
For love, that time cannot unravel
And pray beyond these earthly banks
We’ll meet in Heaven by God’s gavel
You are
now free,
Jackie. You
knew your time
had come. Your job. on. earth
was done. Although ill, you raised your
eaglets well. You are never really
gone; Your legacy lives on. You
brought us all together.
May your journey
find fair weather
back to nature
and your sky.
God's speed, my
Queen. Fly high.
Yesterday l watched as
The world said goodbye.
As for myself
I didn’t even try.
I chose instead
To listen to the music
Playing in my head,
Thought of the joy
She’d given me for years,
My own celebration
Without any tears.
The girl from Tennessee
Who in her own way
Gave joy to the world
Every single day.
A reputation well earned
Which, even though she’s gone,
Because of words and deeds
Will for many years live on.
devote,
faithful,
loyal,
royal,
A gallant gentleman priestly sort
Vaillant courageous a Kingly swart
8/21/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026© Tyburn
Years roll on,
Independence Day returns,
A flag unfurls, and memory burns.
From Delhi’s skies to New York’s cheer,
India’s spirit echoes clear.
Tea is poured in distant lands,
Cultures meet with gentle hands.
A sip in New York, 2026,
Global voices in harmony mix.
Work once rooted in India’s ground,
Reaches to height when values found.
In U.S. halls, the lens is true.
Massive seas, wide roads that bend,
Streets and bridges without end.
Civil marvels, steel and stone,
Give weary eyes a resting tone.
And through it all, a soul will see,
The journey’s more than geography.
Each step, each day, each fleeting view,
Is history lived, becoming new.
21 Aug 2026
Rashmi Pawar, India
(“Morphogenesis Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil)
(For Keith)
Strands of DNA do what our life does
Coil in pairs, bonding with available others
To define one’s self,
As above, so below
As within, so without,
And so it goes, our lives spiraling onward
And outward
A path beyond our control
A path filled with chance meetings
In a world where nothing is really left to chance
A path of change if nothing else
Spiraling ‘round our changeless nature
And all for what?
The chance to simply be
In the doing
The chance to love and know others
And so get glimpses of ourselves
In joy and sorrow
Sharing it all as it goes
Round and round
This mortal coil has a beginning and end
But surely Life goes on
Within us and without us
Leaving its mark
So easily recalled
With the smile upon their face
(8/20/26)
Rabi, the Ever Rising Sun!
----------------------------------------
Among thousands and thousands of stars
You are the one and only who shines
the brightest.
As the sun above our head is the
solar guardian
You are the same for our lives
to be that man .
The sun rises and sets everyday
not caring anyone
But you never sets remaining ever rising for everyone.
The sun gives us the day but he takes rest at night
While you stay ever rising in our life to make it like day light.
You are the sun of the land called Rabindranth to enlighten
Our lives, minds and hearts to be the complete men.
Dr. Dipak Dik, Kolkata, India.
You used to smile a lot
When we were both young
Enough to play and run,
In the flowering fields.
Golden rays, golden hair
Golden cord, golden rings.
They are now all the same
In my memory.
The only thing not faded
Is the smile on your face.
We should have counted then
Those few blessings shared,
Lest we forget them
In the passing of years.
Our memories washed
Away as the rains
Came to clean
Away the dew
Covering us when we awoke
Laying in the grass of that meadow.
Faded Youth was originally published in Impspired Magazine, 2026 all rights reserved.
Cortez the Killer was playing
As we danced in the dark
Weaving a web of love
A Möbius Strip
Spanning lifetimes
In the dark, seeking light
Always light
Until with a light kiss
And long last hug
You left us there
And flew
Beyond beyond
And out of sight
A song once heard
Never forgot
So young, yet so old
So full, yet so free
You lay down your load
Leaving us to gather ours
Returning home silent
In the night
Each alone
In our own way
Dancing a circle
A circle of light.
(5/31/26)
I found it buried in Grandma’s drawer,
the blasted wooden spoon with the burn mark
and the hairline crack God knows what from.
She snatched it from my hand like it was alive.
“That thing’s seen more trouble than you,” she said,
and the air in the kitchen shifted,
as if the spoon remembered something
and was waiting to see if I did too.
It wasn’t for stirring beans.
It wasn’t for tasting stew.
that spoon was for pointing ... slow, deliberate
at any child that had forgotten their manners.
My father swore he could hear it hum
before it struck the table.
My mother said it twitched in the drawer
when someone lied in the next room.
By the time it came for my generation,
we didn’t need the smack,
just the lift of Grandma’s hand toward the drawer,
the shadow of the spoon rising like judgment.
And years later, when my own children tested me,
I reached for it not in a drawer, but in its own crock
felt its weight settle into my palm,
felt every ancestor nod in approval.
The spoon never touched them.
It didn’t have to.
Some objects carry their own history,
and this one still waits in the crock,
quiet as a predator stalking its prey.
Giving up
yesterday
For another
tomorrow
So many
gave everything
So many
— gave all
***
Silence
does the grieving
When loss
steals tomorrow
Those voices
of the fallen
Alive
— in the wind
(Memorial Day: May, 2026)
A sea of marble markers
In perfect rows and place
Adorn the sprawling green
Above each cherished face.
Beneath the graven tombstones
Are soldiers low and dear.
Void of breath, still, at peace
Full of honor, lost in tears.
No one will forget these lives
Though silent, markers speak.
White monuments still stand
Like glorious mountain peaks.
Trumpets blare their tributes clear
Through heaving, sobbing faces.
Salutes surround the site
Where loved ones kneel in places.
Their dear loss is not in vain
They bore great pain for us.
High is the soldier's worth
Come lift a grateful chorus.
("A Migration of Ghosts", 2023, original encaustic)
In the morning I lay in the bath
Slowly waking with a cup
My mind drifts half asleep.
Eventually I start to count
All the people I have met and known
Close and distant
Who are gone.
At first it’s an easy couple of handfuls
But then the longer I soak
The more the numbers add up.
Eventually several dozen names and faces
Have marched across my memory
Each one smiling for an instant
Caught in a moment of what I knew them for.
A parade of sorts, young and old
Which once opened to won’t seem to stop.
It’s not like I’m merely an observer either
Safe in the warmth of my bath,
Like them I’m moving inexorably from here
To there
A parade of sorts, each with our own allotted light
Candles big and small, dull or bright
But in the end nothing but a memory
In memoriam we erect in honor
Without a site.
(5/15/26)
Dear Mike,
I just wanted to touch base with you and write how I feel at this moment. While you were here, you taught us so much. I still play your songs because I like THE WAY YOU MAKE ME FEEL through your music. It brings me closer to you. My favorites are MAN IN THE MIRROR and BLACK AND WHITE.
You know yo boy BEN broke up with DIRTY DIANA and told her to BEAT IT. She began to SCREAM and yell I WANT YOU BACK. Drama, drama, drama. She always WANNA BE STARTIN' SOMETHIN' acting like she's all BAD. It must be her HUMAN NATURE and that could be DANGEROUS.
Anyway, he started dating this PRETTY YOUNG THING name BILLIE JEAN. She is a LIBERIAN GIRL. She told him he reminds her JUST A LITTLE BIT OF YOU.
Well, we all miss you. We feel you were GONE TOO SOON. By the way, there is suppose to be a concert in your honor and you know one thing Mike, I've GOT TO BE THERE. I will ROCK WITH YOU forever, for I NEVER CAN SAY GOODBYE to you and you will never be OUT OF MY LIFE.
You, your dancing and your music will live on and on forever and ever.
Love Always,
Colette Dright
Shepherd and Bishop of the Church of Gnosis
Teacher of the tradition of inner knowing
Entered this world through the Kingdom of the Magyars
Passerby bishop in Yaldabaoth’s world of night
Holding his staff to the twinkling eons above
Awakening us to the blazing mind of Jung
Nourishing the eon of gnosis arisen
Anointed in heavenly baths of Christ Jesus
Hoeller died, yet he now lives in unfading light
Our Lady Sophia shed tears this month and night
Enter the Fullness of love and divinity
Lily of the valley, who escaped death’s valley
Look and behold the divine aeons’ faces
Enter the Fullness of the Mother and Father
Rest in the Bridal Chamber of Christ our saviour
(Acrostic poem in honour of Bishop Stephan A. Hoeller, who died on May 3 2026).
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