Soul-Joy

Now tis as though I'm holding on to naught for which I've fought.
The ashes of my dreamwork... the wonders that were wrought...
By the Why in which I go to reach my distant goal
As Wretched Loss and Cherished Joy each play a vital role.

I had every blessed Soul-Joy.  Mine, each and every one.
But I knew not how I gained them, nor did I know just how I'd won.
How blessed I really was I did not understand
Until I felt my un-felt treasures slip out of my hands.

Support from friends uncounted, yet each one I felt.
Wounds unmeasured made to heal, balm to every welt.
No gain from pain unappreciated, I knew at last the worth.
Humor felt once again, I remembered my lost mirth.

Each of these my treasures, none of them the last.
Now they are returning.  My joy is not forever past.
I begin again to look and see the others living round-
To smell the air, and feel sun's ray... to hear the sweetest sound.

Tis the sound of what's outside, not what through the glass I see.
It is the sound of real life, the life outside of me.
Not by my own wish did the miracle come about.
Call it blessing, call it grace.  I learn again beauty without.

Without this blessed Soul-Joy, the fight cannot reward.
Without the Soul-Depth from pain, Soul-Joy I can't afford.
Without the bitter struggle by which I feel real pain,
Joy cannot ever be captured to understand true gain.

And so I take the struggle, that teaches me how to discern.
I turn it to blessed Soul-Joy. Both Loss and Joy have helped me learn.

Life For Which I Die

Maybe my conflict has bled,
Too long,
The lifeblood of a poet's song.
Perhaps this struggle cuts so deep
That Sanctuary's peace seems quick
And wrong.
Too easy for one like me,
Like you.
Leaving one more wretched thing to do-
To take the shredded wisps of Heart Material up
And, holding them gently
In my hands,
Walk empty-chested
To the end.
Maybe this was or is someone you know.
It might be that her or his wounds
Don't show.
Perhaps their struggle hides so deep
That they do not know how
To share it or bare it.
It tears at them to weep.
I don't know how, though I may want
To live in their shoes.
It leaves a second choice to choose
Do I dare to bare my care
Or else my Material release into the sky
And with each open heart out there, share
The life for which I die?
This I've done, this I do
Every time I share, with
The life for which I die.

beatingheart2

Core

The War Without, changing shade
From bloodied fist to strengthened blade.
By my own sweat comes defeated aim-
Friend... foe... we are the same.

I turn my head. One Dream failed-
Another turn. Dream Two jailed.
Turn from both, Third Dream fled,
All locked up inside my head.

Look down 'pon feet, Dream Four lost
In frigid waters.  I count the cost.
Drenched, submerged, carried downstream.
My ruined, waterlogged, shredded Fourth Dream.

Soaring, flying, aspiring Dream Five.
One more bid to keep hope alive.
Wings of the fledgling upwardly strive
Begging my Father that in Heav'n I'll arrive.
Praying ne'er again to take such a dive.
Nor e'er be trapped in stingers' hive.

Wars Within, volatile more
Than War Without.
Deeper, far sharper pain stored.
Strategic retreat now panicked rout.
Every which way I choose to turn,
Enemy's victory only can I discern.
When shall we learn
What we were sent forth to learn?

Drawing Self deeper, far deeper, more,
Into my embattled, invincible core.
Knowing not safety but what be found here
All strength, all of all, into core-free-of-fear.
Feeling Hope, herself, drawing near.
Feeling Faith, Hope's sister, also drop tear.
Feeling Charity's desire to help me
Return out from in, and relearn to be free.

Wars Within a hard outer shell,
Keeping in all that is in,
Reviewing lessons from when I fell
Whilst I do all I can to let go of sin
Shell slowly growing thin-
Defense I'm losing. How can I win?
From the dregs of a deepening well,
How can I quell all these Wars Within?

Weakened blade... bloodied fist...
Broken spirit... shattered wrist...
Hope, Faith, and Charity
Wishing me, my path, to see...
Wishing me walk myself free...
Core now Home-To-All-Of-Me...
How do I explain
To Hope, Faith, and Charity,
Now reaching their hands out to me?
How do I take them?
How do I heed
Their want to help me
Be truly freed?
How can one such as me, shattered,
Broken, beaten bloody,
Weakened, battered to a shadow,
Accept aid from three pure souls like these?

But though my belief be naught but wish,
Tis enough to start. I begin to raise a hand.
I feel a glimmer in my heart of what I ever feel
When 'fore tempest's rage I stand.
A desire to conquer, rise above what's said,
To push through anguish by which I've bled.
How long it takes, I do not know,
But when hand, wrist, forearm, and arm I've raised all I can,
Faith takes my hand, pulls my arm round her shoulder.
Hope takes my other, though growing colder,
And also throws it round her shoulder.
Charity now leads the way
Out of my core, where I thought I would stay.

War Within ends by kindness and love.
Perhaps peace, inner and out, go hand-in-glove.
Though maybe twill take longer
Hope, Faith, and Charity's influence
Only gets stronger.
Retaught to grow, feel, and see...
Maybe they can help others like me
Out of their darkness, and help them be free.

beatingheart2

Battlefield Whereon I Lay

Now that I'm done, the battle's won,
None of my wounds are mending...
The inner ache grows.
I am, my tattered spirit's yearnings, sending
Out, ere last bits of feeling go.
Just before my Me is gone,
A tendril of strange thought is lending
Strength.  Into my soul, throughout, it flows

From living beings on some plane
Away, from me, far...
Whether heaven, or earth, or moon
Or star...
To make alive twas dead.
While here I lay, naught but not-ed knot
of tendril-ed thought
Could make alive twas dead
To undo foolish words said
To bind wounds by invisible, invincible thread.

A thread, a tendril of life most fragile,
Interwoven with my own most-gone,
From beings living far away
Sent to weave a tapestry of life alive again.
Can one lone strand, a single thread
Bring me back from where I lay?
This thread, strand, tendril,
All that holds me here to earth
From living beings, bidding me stay.

Battlefield Whereon I Lay...
Beings bidding me yet stay...
Naught but emptiness held today...
Where can I go?
To what may I stray?
When can I say
What I must, but can't, say?

beatingheart2

Battle's Lull: A Plea

A lull in the battle, my warriors return.

We know death well.  Never safe, we have learned.

Evidence of tragedy we see from our mound.

Broken souls, and bodies, 'pon yon lower ground.

Our brothers and sisters, our friendships and kin

Have given their all so that we might win.

How so very many have traveled below.

This our great sorrow.  We begged them not to go!

This war has taken so many away,

When we wanted them, needed them badly, to stay.

Now arm-brothers gather into a group so tight...

Arm-sisters too, with us in this fight...

A family of loyalty, 

A kinship true.

A fierce need have all embattled we

For You.

You, who read these words,

Fighting wars of your own.

We hope with all we have

You are not yet turned to stone.

We reach to You, in hopes that you'll share

Your reasons, your drive by which You dare.

You dare to give each moment 

A further shot,

No matter that perhaps all You wish for 

You have not.

The battle awaits You

The war ever rages

Fatality ever rises

In all further stages.

Will You lay down your lay down,

Open up your heart's doors

Let out the wondrous strength

We know you have in store?

Please share your battles

That we may fight them too.

Sword-bearers need sword-brothers

And sword-sisters.  You need us.

We need You.

beatingheart2