My small kitten must think it odd
That I don’t want his paws to trod
On my letter-stampers nor on
The book I hold the Word of God.
Nothing fits. Every mind is unaware
Of its own insanity, or fatigued
In waiting for a glimmer in that stare,
Something from that void to answer our need.
Lunatic but who sees the moon any more
That still floats longingly above the screen
That shows us everything we must adore
That mirrors what is and has always been.
Words like rows of ants file across our lives
And off the page, burst into frenzied flame;
It is all too much, and too much deprives
The world and all mankind from their true aim.
There are too many answers, too little sense,
And when all is questioned, we need silence.
If there was in Heaven and Earth, a light besides your flame
It would extinguish itself out of love for you and shame.
If there was a star in heaven more lovely than your eyes
You would see it in thrashing agony, falling from the skies.
If flowers could bloom any fragrance sweeter than your musk
They would rend themselves in frenzy and wither in the dust.
Master, it is not fitting that some refuse you:
Is it proper to deny a king in his domain?
We owe you our life, over and over again.
All owe you the light of guidance, how can it not be true?
If on another’s behalf beside you, guidance was claimed
The fabric of the world would revolt or be maimed.
If your footsteps were not promised to enter Paradise
Eden would wash itself away in the flooding of its eyes.
If a secret was left unknown to you in all the world
Would not the universe die and upon itself be furled?
Master, can we ever hope to love you
With hearts of lead and stone,
With hearts of lead and stone?
How we would worship you if that was not for God alone.
If the gem of your heart possessed the smallest flaw
We should die of envy, instead we give ourselves in awe.
We should die of envy, instead we give ourselves in awe.
Peace and blessings upon you, forever.
Remembering why I am on campus
I grieve the absence of farms and orchards,
Of forests and hills. We have our excess
In asphalt, malls, Art Deco — not vineyards.
Florida gives you citrus and sugar
And neither are farmed around Miami:
Miami only trades in the bizarre,
Harvests hopes, sows dreams — so it seems to me.
Instead of farming, I must dream of words,
Listen to the learned, and chisel at poems;
Still I wist of pastures and llama herds,
But lacking dirt, use words to bury gems.
And I trade in spades for a pen and toll,
Digging into the rich soil of the soul.
Flies before a flame
Are not all the same:
One basked in the glow
And said, “Of love I know.”
Another singed his wings
Saying, “Love a burning brings.”
The last dove in and died:
He knew what lay inside.
Featured on the Court of Lions.
You can tear my name from your books
But that won’t tear you from my heart:
I love you for Him, not your wealth or looks;
For Him alone will you depart.
Be both a jurist and mystic, not just one of the two,
For the former is stiff, his heart tasteless and unguarded,
(Truly by God’s Right I am sincerely advising you!)
And the latter ignorant, and such are disregarded.
