Tribute To My Muse

My muse is a beautiful maiden, the most ravishing demoiselle;
Exquisite beyond description; Wise beyond compare – without peer;
Her smile carries the sun, the moon, the stars, every source of light;
Her words are soothing, sublimely subtle,
Poignantly apt, incisively noninvasive, completely compelling;
She is the perfect picture of contradictions dressed in paradoxes,
Crowned with the ultimate enigma, surrounded by barely unveiled mysteries;
Her steps are silent, even the dust isn’t disturbed if she wills it so.
She walks with the grace of a majestic feline,
And the stately elegance of a sunrise.
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Fathers

To fathers – past and present.
To the past, a tribute; to the present, an ideal;
Because it would be a truly sad world,
When the best Dads are the dead ones.

“My father, my father, the chariots of Israel and its horsemen!”
A teacher whose words marked the path to the destinies of generations;
Fell along the way, leaving only a silent lifeless landmark
No more will I hear him whisper from behind, “This is the way. Walk in it.”
I refuse to recall the dirge about ‘how the mighty have fallen’;
When I cannot find your trusted well-oiled shield’s protection.
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Erring On The Side Of Love

To err on the side of love is to be acquainted with pain;
It is akin to the fate of the moth – enthralled by flames
Of compassion, empathy, kindness, patience, humility.

To err on the side of love is to realize
That you do your fair share of dishing out hurt,
Angst, apathy, ire, discord, heart-break, doubt;-
Usually inadvertently, but harmful nonetheless.
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Truth be Told

Truth be told, I’m cold;
But it’s not really me, it’s my heart that’s cold;
There was a time when my heart felt like molten gold,
Impassioned with zeal and love for the Lord;
Now, here’s an empty cold vessel made of gold;
It’s laden with dust and hidden out of sight;
But out of sight, is a dangerous place to be.
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