And Yet

And I stand, feet ready, on rail of boat,
On edge of roof, on toddlered limbs
To wonder: dare I wander through?
Place step into void untested yet
Or yet dare not and never step
Into firmament unfelt or wandered.
What use is man or poet to ponderers
Who’s never leapt beyond? What wisdom
Or folly may I yet bear back having not?
No, rather, I cannot but venture
Even if, as Dante did, I wander in
Scenes best unseen, like Milton in
Heresy and Aryan seem or worse, like
Blake into furthest field of insanity seemed.
To have seen is to seem insane whether
Having seen Angels in truth or not.
Yet to dream, I must, and I stand
Knowing, though fearing, I will yet on.


Concerning what is to come. 

Via Dollorosa

When ochre ground and life took shape as man,
When the flaming brand took post at the eastern gate,
To guard the solitary way–their fate
As exiles born upon the wilding land.
At dawn the sun behind their backs cast shadows
In their tracks to light the way of sorrows,
At eve he sank beneath the shade they followed
And ever on they sought out hidden meadows,
Born westward towards the setting son of Calvary.
That night that rent the veil and cracked the grave,
That pierced the path of light ‘tween earth and heaven,
That wilder image bright we chased towards Calvary,
Clinging to the blood stained olive stave
And so we wander West in quest of Eden.


Hidden, I Look

As I was found beneath the blazing oak,
Held near against my will. I there awoke,
To find no shelter from its awful gaze,
Struck blind, I wizen as my strength decays.

And there I saw some form within the smoke,
Take shape before my mortal eyes and fear,
My voice was stolen, as I wept and choked
Tears burning filled my eyes with visions clear. 


The Author's first poem.