Carrying soft, smooth feathered wings
To shield it's young from the tears of the sky
Whenever they fall
The bird wraps them in its wings
Offering warmth
Offering shelter
In every storm
Those wings become a refuge
Sometimes after a fierce fall
It's feathers are torn
And the bird slowly fades away
No one thanked it
For its silence sacrifice
No one sees it's wounds
They simply admire
The ones it saved
Never the wings
That broke for them......
He fled beyond eternities, boundless, aching voids.
The walls of time tallied his sins, nameless.
Yet he chose the Sun, a prison ignited.
Fanatic heat, blistered skin carved to stone.
Far above, her glance burned velvet through storms.
Her gravity called softly, furnace-muted,
where light bent to frame her shadowed figure,
a silhouette of celestial grief. She wept.
Pierced by her sorrow, he circled endless days.
Golden chains cinched his wrists like whispers.
He watched, consumed by her form's fierce quiet.
Eyes hollow with wonder; soul quaked, undone.
Then fire cooled, surrender wore as peace.
Her light softened: molten balm, tender pain.
His tears joined hers, falling like volcanic rain.
Time cracked. Eternity shattered. Still, they burned.
Grief rewritten, etched into ash-drawn orbits.
"Witness me," he thought, sun-borne martyr.
Escape became weight. Freedom became her gaze.
A new dawn is rising
Out over the rim
Of the hole of hell
From earth’s darkness within
Circling up from a well
Dug into the black mound
On the hill in the valley
In the shady earth of ground.
Carrying along with it,
The colours of French poetry
In its own re-blooming renaissance
Warmed by the sun’s rays
Forcing through the obstacle of leaves
And watered by rain floating in on clouds
Coming in from the sea on breezes
Of hope to a refuge of coming justice and peace
life crashes like waves
oceans floor my foundation
steadfast i stand
My life floating freely like a Lost leaf looking for refuge
Before you open your eyes and look out on your day
look inside yourself and see where it is written in gold:
Heart, you are the refuge
Of a thousand, thousand souls.
Be only faithful, and an empire
Will yield to your insistent love.
One atom of your divine being
Provides a temple and a haven
For the wandering and the lost.
So open your mind and heart
and let the multitudes rejoice.
Christopher M. Swan 2009
Take Refuge
Sometimes we dwell towards shelter
These days are uncertain
Darkness and confusion with rage bleeds cancer
Rest upon the shadows from the most high
The Lord is my refuge
Trust no matter where the road leads you
With faithfulness, remain humble
Be observant and open minded
Don’t follow the corrupted world or evil ways
Lean on him within the storm
Angles watch over us from above
One day we will meet again
Watch for his return beyond the clouds
Soon depart from below
In Heaven will be peaceful beyond your imagination
They line the streets
In a shanty confined
The cemented floor
A cold refuge
Embracing disgusted busts of energy
Lost in the wilds
A strange world
The Privileged ones…
What can they do
To assuage this continuing distress
About 1.7 billion
Held hostage in
This grueling tunnel
Manifest in varied dimensions
They lack voice
Human dignity violated
Insecure exclusion of individuals
Habituated in marginal environments
Astronomical cost of living
Must be apprehended
Cities and states must be
Built on God’s foundation
Harbingers to this state are:
Scarce basic needs
Unwilling governments
No economic freedom
Weak rule of law
Bureaucratic burdens
Lack of industralisation
Ailing financial services
Contaminated tendencies
WATAMALA
'The Refuge' Is a unique Poetry book.
The book contains all content published on this page (so far) and more... If you would like to own the current writings of U.P in physical form for your bookshelf at home, or as an E-Book - you will find it on Amazon by typing 'The Refuge Unknown Preach'
Best wishes U.P
Secure from behind
This wall in my mind.
Within its refuge, as fine
A maintained garden's.
Unshook by what raw
For voices blow o'er.
At peace with self, there attuned
To what inspires art.
As what, buzzing, as quicksmart
A flower opens.
Every morning, he wakes up alone.
Having dreamt of a feeling, one he’s never really known
expecting a message, but there’s nothing on the phone
this garden was once exciting, now it’s all overgrown.
He sees them in the town, not an inch of a frown
fuelled by the beauty of a blessed promise
to always be there, when the world is not fair,
to hold each other’s hands regardless of fate’s plans.
His friends discuss their busy months ahead, while he lays there in his cesspit of dread
left with the wanderers, the ones who said
that they had boyfriends as they sat on his bed.
He sits with his thoughts, night into dawn
dreams of the arms and how he’d bathe in the charm
of just one that could hold, a heart once so cold.
Because no matter what he’s been told, to find refuge in self, to brave through the cold,
the self is a lot to hold.
My Refuge,
My Only Dear Friend,
Oh how I am glad thus day has come to an end.
My Sweet Jesus, I kneel before you, my eyes I lift to your ever merciful sight, I exhale deeply as my soul is tired, my heart is so heavy, yet as I bow my head to give my troubles, sorrows to you, a peaceful light comes over me.
Dear sweet merciful Jesus, I ask you to help me LIVE, LEAD, LOVE as you do, I give you PRAISE to say thank you for my blessings, my home, my family, as that’s all that I need, please help guide me in this uncertain cruel world, I love you more than words could ever say.
I say these things in your ever sweet merciful name, JESUS, AMEN.
In the twilight of life, the poet seeks refuge,
In the shadow of an ancient tree or by the shore of an endless sea,
He leans against a cloud that changes hue with each thought,
And in his silence, he finds himself in untraveled places, in unspoken dreams.
He is not bound by the paths of others, nor by their destinies,
His love, understanding, and joy are found in unseen places,
In unknown hearts, in unchanged smiles,
In distant horizons where his steps have never walked.
When the world demands that he conform, adapt,
When the stars are invoked to guide his fate,
He smiles and says he belongs to another universe,
To a sky just swallowed by his dreams.
The poet, with his soul full of passion, runs toward the end,
Toward that pivotal moment where words turn into magic.
And although the signs of time show on his face,
He remains that young dreamer, rushing reunions and eagerly awaiting the scent of fresh bread.
for the children of the Holocaust, Ukraine and Gaza
Where does the butterfly go
when lightning rails
when thunder howls
when hailstones scream
when winter scowls
when nights compound dark frosts with snow
where does the butterfly go?
Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill,
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow,
where does the butterfly go?
And where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
Oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?
TIMELESS REFUGE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Weathered trees rise out of the earth, brushing against the sky. The wind sends a shudder of movement through the branches causing the majestic trees to creak and groan as they sway. In the distance is a cabin, timeworn and dilapidated.
in the heart of woods
ancient cabin stands alone
whispers of time flow
its walls, worn by years
stories etched in every board
testament to life
roof, a patchwork quilt
of shingles weathered and worn
memories await
the windows, like eyes,
gazing out upon the world
silent witnesses
the fireplace crackles
warmth spreads through the chilly air
comfort, solitude
outside, the forest
whispers secrets to the wind
tales of days past
the time-worn cabin
endures, is steadfast and true
a timeless refuge
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