LaBruyere

I feel you as a wave of deepest pain And you and I crash forcefully on shores Of midnight islands; sometimes summer rain And other times the icy tide takes o’er. The heat pounds down in fire and boiling blood Touching mountains, towers, rivers full. The ice then hisses in, a frigid flood, And I’m as tough as stone and cold and dull. I feel you in the night and long for waves Crashing, warm, with starlight skies above To break through stone to find what my heart craves Though lips cannot confess or profess love. I feel you while I long for freedom yet; And you fall through the ice of cold regret.

Life rolls steadily onward For the world outside While I am pinned beneath the waves Of sorrow and grief Emptiness and despair. They roll over me in a repeat of the same moment-- Mocking me as my body mocks me with the pangs of a labor that did not bring you to me. They roll over me in a repeat of the same moment-- Sorrow and grief Emptiness and despair Bearing down on me in wave after wave Suffocating and mocking. For the world outside Life rolls steadily onward While I do not.

I wish I had a heart that's after yours. I wish I was more patient, soft, and kind. I wish my spirit walked in step, forbore The harshest suffering with peace of mind. But the process is painstaking slow Than ever it has been in me so far. I don't know why my spirit won't let go Or yield to to be with you where you are. And yet I know you do not hurry this And let it take its time, as roots dig down To where the heart is dark, and heaven's kiss Reaches out to where the spirit drowns. This sin-stained heart in me recoils and fights Even while it longs to live in light.

  I begin my tale by pleading to be thought humbled by the circumstance I relate. By no means have my musings and the answer I derived from them made me wiser or more worthy than any other holy man. But it is fitting that I next tell you that I was once a mere shepherd, plain and dirty. But God has more than once sought out men of lowly birth and through His glory, changed them entirely, body and soul.   I was tending the flock one night, sitting very near the fold, for it was my turn to keep watch as the others slept. My father always told me that to sit and think too deeply was not fitting for a shepherd boy. Yet I ques

The cold of winter holds my heart Though spring is close at hand, In fear that rips my world apart Though hope is in command. A tiny seed of hope has come And I have no control To make it grow or come undone But let it feed my soul Whatever happens next I know The tiny hope is mine To hold when winter comes and goes And thus I trust you, blind.

And here I stand on cliff's edge one last time. Perhaps I leap; and yet perhaps I climb. There's no more to be said for where I stand, In solitude and guarded all around. The very cosmos may well fill my hands As I, the two-fold creature on the ground Look up and see my choices through the storm Not unaware that nature thrills my soul As soul and matter touch, lovely and warm Like trees aflame with God, remaining whole. You cannot say the soul is all alone And matter nothing; nor the other way. For we with both must see and love the known, Until in light of glory, we decay.

The universe is full of matter. Black And formless and without substantial being. Years exist between the stuff of stars And time and consciousness have little meaning. Warmth and light exists each million years As light, compelled to travel, pierces space With nothing in between but unknown stuff And here a little planet holds its place. And on it matter takes the form of beings And in it hearts are made of tissue, strung Between the bones and blood of sudden life Alive and full of something. Mind is hung Upon the soul imparted with a need To know you and to fall within your aim. This matter with a mind exists in space, And in all the un

Finality rings forth in every peal-- Stubborn in the wind go ages past Laced with hope and beauty, full and real; Ringing, winging, breathing now their last. Comes a lull between the exhaled breath Ripe with such potential and such fear. Inhale peace and joy or inhale death: The future gives no indication here. In between the breaths a heart still beats. Its rhythm steady, certain. Still no wait Is long enough to hinder or defeat A heart so full of hope that won't abate. Life becomes the ringing of a bell; Exhale past regrets and breathe farewell.

Parnassus has called forth in beauty here; Has made the voice to tremble for the end. So come the words which echo, calling clear For roads of poetry to twist and bend Until there is a fork dividing ways: First one unto the mountain peak for more The other to a rest of many days. Unwilling muse, what else is in your store? Thus has the mountain thrust the poet down Conceding 'tis enough to drink the air For time and times determined by the sound Of spirits overflowing, hearts left bare? So has the mount of muses lost me, then. I argue not, give forth, and drop my pen.

I looked at you the day you were born And I saw it was good. Beloved, your King So loves your blue eyes and your sad but sweet smile And holds that small hand whatever life brings. I look at you now and I love who you are. You cry and you fight but I love you no less. You feel overwhelmed and you're hating the change, But I ask you to dance and to enter my rest. Come into the shade of my presence, my wings, It's been a long night but I see you, I'm here And I ask you to know you're forgiven and loved. And I'll drive out the dark--there's nothing to fear. Whatever you do, however you act, If you seem past repair, if you've gone mu

I will stir your hair with the wind And rejoice over you with a song. I will steal your breath with the thunder And fight for your love all day long. You come before me in your fear; You tremble with shame at my feet. You beat yourself up for your sins And cry before me in defeat. You're wrong to live thus in your shame: I set your heart free long ago. I love that you hate that you hurt me, But I love better still when you know I will catch every tear in my hands And instill you with grace, not with pain. I will calm you with peace from the sunrise And wash out your fear with the rain. It's fruitless, my child, to resist; I h

My breath is spent, My words are few. Lately I Learn to love you. It comes and goes; I wish you'd stay. When I've no more Words to say. Poems don't Suffice, dear one. The love still lingers When I'm done, And the ink is dry. Come back to me. Let your love linger, Let this moment be More than just An interlude. Let my love not vanish With my mood. Thirty poems Offered here, Filled with emotions, Love and fear. Will you take them? Are they enough? They're my way To show you love. Thirty poems; 'Tis my heart. And all the moments Fall apart, Swept back up In ink and pen, Composed in love, Reviewed, and then Off

If this is what you have for me, I'll take it and I'll run. But I won't let go till you've blessed me, Lord, And left my soul undone. If I have to fight you, And struggle until morn, It's nothing to me- I'll do it Until I am reborn. If this is what you have for me, I couldn't ask for more. But I ask a valid question: What, exactly, is in store? Will I have to fight the angel Until I'm blessed at last? I'll show how much I want it; My bitterness is past. It's all I am pursuing, Though I do not know the way. I have no power over you, No idea what you will say. But if this is what you have for me, If this here will fulfill

Thy sweet golden hair-- How can I bear, Dear Miss? By honor, I swear I cannot forbear Thy kiss. This prince will declare, By kings, lady fair, Insist, Thou art my despair My ruin, my prayer; Remiss To not let me share The future, prepare For this: Ours is the sweet air. My life with you there Is bliss.

Though winter may retain its chilly grasp And frost clings to the glass in morning air, The night wind makes the lovers hands to clasp And warmth is brought upon me unaware. Candles in the window flicker brightly Suggestive of romance for those within. Inside the air is thick with love, and rightly, In wedlock, cheek to cheek and skin to skin. The summer wedding brings the winter cold A heat which souls alone must do without. I do not take for granted that we hold And care for one another. Beyond doubt, This joy I have tonight extends above All I, a fool, expected of our love.

Beautiful moment, frozen in time and space forever. You, across crowds and noise and light like the herald of my end. You turn, and time accelerates while I am stuck--hear me cry out!

I came at last to journey's end. I bled out words with deeper pain Than ever I conceived of. Then They asked still more of me again; I look to freedom 'round the bend. I bled out words of deeper pain And I denied no mark of ink. They asked still more of me again; All I can do is make you think Of wisdom, soaking in like rain. I ne'er denied a mark of ink: I look to freedom 'round the bend, For all I do is make you think. I came at last to journey's end And pray of words we deeply drink.

As an apple tree Or a young stag Is my lover. Finest and loveliest; Warrior and king. In the night I sought him On my bed I longed for him Until my desire roused me to walk the city But I found him not. In the watches of the night we have met And his arms embraced me. But our time is not yet come, and I adjure you Daughters of Jerusalem Do not awaken love Until it so desires. I have captivated him With mere glances. Like a garden locked Or a fountain sealed Am I to him. Do not arouse love Until it so desires.

"Just let me drown," he said without a wince. A warm sea, a warm tea, they are the same. You left me then, I have not seen you since. The coffee cup steam seems to spell your name Curling, dark, and warm--I am embraced But drowning nonetheless. Come back, I wept. Perhaps, in retrospect, 'twas my disgrace To leave you. Just perhaps 'twas I who left. I don't know. I don't know. All time stands still Around the teacups, emptied, drained to leaves Which tell me nothing comforting. Refilled Again and yet again, at least it breathes In bracing warm reminders that I sink. With every sip, "just let me drown," I think.

I wonder now what gives your journey hope When you have cast aside your love from youth. Does it not leave you lost, alone? You grope For what you once held fast as solid truth. You stand instead on that which soothes the mass-- Humanity so loves what makes it pant In pleasure which is pain before it's passed; You gave it all for this? Here you recant And beg for mercy, lost, alone, afraid. Yet your repentance smacks of cold defense When you've no other recourse. Had you stayed The love you had, and have, with sweet suspense Would wait for you, hear every cry you uttered, And even now it loves the heart you shuttered.

At times I may forget it in the midst of the mundane When the sound of your soft breathing, unobtrusive as the rain Is puncturing the night, soft and slow, full and real That we once walked in misted evenings, starlight we could feel. And we surrendered memories beneath the German sky And felt the bonds of meteors on hearts glad to comply. I have forgotten, do so still, and will again forget That the choice to watch the sky fall down with you left no regrets. And you still have the open wound inflicted by my love And you still have that power over me that proves enough. And though the days stroll freely to an uncontested cease, You still have

Where goes the pain that flows in rivers full Of anguish down the mountainside of flesh Carrying the crushed and broken hulls Of ships that sailed once between the breasts? The pain, the blackest soot of washed out fires Muddies rivers deep, so much flows out. Is the water black or red? Inquire If you should dare, if you would bring about The wrath and tangled torment of the heart Whence flow the rivers. It knows not indeed Which color carves the mountainside apart Nor which is deepest; both course fast and bleed. Now shall the river flow with blood or tears? One offers death, the other, anguished years.

This desperate wrath lined his face deeply, and Shahin pitied him. He stalked toward Shahin, who raised his own sword. The magus threw up his hands, turning his back to them and walking toward the altar, on which he leaned with his eyes closed, as if he felt the shame being brought upon his god. "Bedar, you have lost yet again," Shahin said, trying one last time to convince him. "You are guilty merely of treason, not murder, and if you help us, I will see that your punishment is not death." "To live under the rule of an enemy is like death," Bedar spat. He wasted no more breath, but lunged, and their swords clashed. Arya watched from t