here is another re-post due to my brain disdyfunction. Lots of deletes that should have never taken place. Please forgive me. There is still another to post. So please don't feel you must comment if you already have and if you haven't you don't have to
just underneath the mourning rain
we found ourselves in evening pain
sitting with our heads all wet
crying with regret, regret
sobbing faces in our hands
water drips from wedding bands
to understand the morning's plight
perhaps the mysteries of light
will wake our fanciful delights
please, let the moon eclipse the sun
the shadows in the midnight spun
abandoners deceive deceit
so, send them into yesterdays
relieve the places where we cry
oh, that darkness may be hallow'd
the smooth familiar black of night
the velvet dance that soothes the soul
and, in our blindness, teaches sight
through slowly dripping sands of time
i glimpse the face of fairies without wings
i hear sweet voices carried on the breeze
the hallow'd whispers of the place of rest
'tis there i see the one pure light of lights
'tis there the sage of music doth reside
this is the journey's candlelight
tonight, a minstrel's at my door
sleep well, my heart, sleep well
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 480 times
Written on 2006-08-16 at 17:23
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Mystical Whispers of Rest (co-write with Rob) repost
just underneath the mourning rain
we found ourselves in evening pain
sitting with our heads all wet
crying with regret, regret
sobbing faces in our hands
water drips from wedding bands
to understand the morning's plight
perhaps the mysteries of light
will wake our fanciful delights
please, let the moon eclipse the sun
the shadows in the midnight spun
abandoners deceive deceit
so, send them into yesterdays
relieve the places where we cry
oh, that darkness may be hallow'd
the smooth familiar black of night
the velvet dance that soothes the soul
and, in our blindness, teaches sight
through slowly dripping sands of time
i glimpse the face of fairies without wings
i hear sweet voices carried on the breeze
the hallow'd whispers of the place of rest
'tis there i see the one pure light of lights
'tis there the sage of music doth reside
this is the journey's candlelight
tonight, a minstrel's at my door
sleep well, my heart, sleep well
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 480 times
Written on 2006-08-16 at 17:23
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
