The Land

The land was distant

and unknown.

Fathers had spoken of it often,

but back then we simply

couldnt have known

that

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

journeys,

coursing back and forth,

sometimes with the many,

sometimes one alone,

The father’s dream in time

became,

the children’s

father’s home.

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Void Voice

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Void Voice

Void Voice

I was tired
you gave me rest .
I was desolate
consumed by a void
till I heard
A silent sacred voice
Spilling into it
so very clearly
In a sparkling flow
Peace relieve me.
Grief let me learn to
live with less .
Give me more of that
stark and simple insight
courage
so that I can
Openly confess
that all is one .