With the eyes of the Mediterranean
This verse I write for you.
A gentle soul of creative life.
Strife will not be with you.
As the stars shine in their nightly calm
Your spirit will beat as a drum.
And your kindness will touch hearts and souls
From here to kingdom come.
A smile that reaches corners
Of the universe and beyond.
Know this, dear faithful spirit …
… you are a million in one!
Pebbled steps along the way
As sweet bird chirps away
And little dog across is stray
Barking his woes of yesterday.
Will the world always be like this?
The abyss?
As nothing is received today?
Its sense of stay
Of people being what they may
Or may not be?
We read the day.
Contemplate the souls
For know not they their goal.
As spider crawls
Along it’s silver thread.
The beast again lays it’s head
Upon the brow of another.
To suck and smother.
But in robes of old and
Tainted view.
You will not see this you.
For clever the beast will be
And only show itself to me.
To slowly tease
And hurt and curse.
The way the mouse
Is rolled in earth
By cat who shows
His naked teeth of mirth.
And too do those
Join this disarray
For Satan;
He wishes to play
With minds and hearts
And thoughts devout.
He pushes his snout
Out
To cause mayhem
Amongst them.
What’s the need and desire?
What’s the motivating fire?
Why the staring and caring
Of others a glaring?
Why, when the sky is blue
And you hear above you
The chirp and the cheep
Of little ‘uns beaks?
The rustle of leaves
Hearts’ voices of love
From the trees.
Or the slow sigh
Of the sun
As it raises its head
To the morn that’s begun.
Sweet blades of grass
That tickle in mass
And lay blanket of fur
Upon knees.
A flutter of wind
A spatter of rain
The ruffle of dry domain.
Aren’t these the souls of life
The moments appeasing strife?
The highest of spirit
And lowest of pain
Where I wish to forever remain.
If you see this
You will know
How the sparrow slows.
With gentleness of
Flight and speed
Amidst a heavenly glow.
She dips her wings
Along the air
And whistles as she goes.
A song to take
The hurt away
As best she knows.
But little sparrow
Far above
A land that is too bright.
Is burnt by
Such sorrowful souls
Of others’ delights.
’Fly away from the flame
Dear one!
Fly away from the hurt
And the harrowing sun!’
But with a shake
And puffed up chest
And eyes aplomb.
Little sparrow declares
This must not be done.
’For though my wings
May seem a-wilt
my work is far from done!’
And as she swirled
Around the sky
The sweetest sound emerged.
With head pulled back
And wings full-stretched
This is what was heard:
’My wings are made of might.
My wings are made to fight.
My wings are made to fly above.
My wings are made to love.’
Sweet whirlings of a tired
Storm.
Rests head upon breast of a time
Begone.
Silent sounds of nothing reach the
Chest.
As nature fills her
Nest.
The song sings in glorious
Voice.
To rise above what is thought is
Choice.
Settle upon the brow and
See.
That this world is following
Thee.
It sits and stares and
Cares.
Beyond a mortal
Sense.
It wishes you
Recompense.
It lives and
Loves.
And comforts thee
Most times when you do not
See.
Rest soul, thy little
One.
For in that rest, your mind is
One.
With the sound and look and feel of love
You will peace catch as a cooing dove.
There’s a glisten in them
there eyes,
As the sea rolls in
And the dark sky shines.
There’s a redness upon
those lips,
As the corners smile
And the hills run wild.
There’s a flare upon
the skin,
As the wind blows by
And the grass grows green.
There’s a touch across
the brow,
As the leaf turns brown
And falls to the ground.
There’s a tune within
one’s heart,
As life goes by
And the tears are high.
There’s a peace
within it all,
As the earth goes round
And there is no sound.
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