Friday, June 24, 2011

Breath I
I rest on this bed of souls
A hundred years of lost lives
Breathless in time
I wonder nothing, slumbering into the eternal night
Awakened on His bed of souls
I, like a hundred lives, breathe easily the morning of life

Breath II
There are times I wish to God I believed in His blue sky
His wilding rivers
His roaring winds
The prayerful passions He stokes as great fires
I wish I could believe in what is His Goodness?
But I despair, anxious till under an autumn moon, a crisp air draws up my clouds of breath
Perhaps His breath rises along with mine
I wonder to God if this is true

3 comments:

Old Ollie said...

Sometimes...God speaks.

You weave the finest poems SC.

Human Paradox said...

A great existentialist saga. What was the answer to Job?

Poets United said...

You have a hungry heart.

Your poems are rare, authentic and beautiful.