The Land

The land was distant

and unknown.

Fathers had spoken of it often,

but back then we simply

couldnt have known


there was no becoming then.

We were not ripe,

We we were not grown.

Years past

we laboured

and it remained

a sepia coloured

picture slightly stained.

A place far away

and vast;

A place away,

A place unknown,

A place of peace,

And just a dream,

a single digit out of grasp.

A place trees,

of dancing leaves,

of stone,

of flowing streams;

A place of sunlight

set in midday dreams,

that quiet white blankets

covered on distant winter eves.

As generations grew

to men and women,

as did the strifes and labours too,

with loss and fear,

And costly prices paid

the children died,

the children grew.

Yet with many long and distant


coursing back and forth,

sometimes with the many,

sometimes one alone,

The father’s dream in time


the children’s

father’s home.





I come alone
to the quiet garden
to abide
it is
alone that
rise .
You hide your face
from profligate
sons and daughters ,
but don’t withhold
your love
from those
who practice politics
of affection
or division,
and even more so ,
from those
who do not.
Let the
of your song
be in the streets
for those
who are
far away
from home .

Pictured above garden of Prince and Princess Abkhazi located in Victoria, British Columbia, They began creating their garden in 1946.