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This day
Thoughts skip over
consciousness
like sunlight striking
white clouds
reflecting back in to
space
with bursts of radiant
energy
The old man comes sneaking
around
when I am other wise
preoccupied
mocking me from the
background
distracting me from tasks
at hand
Reminding me of my
mortality
and noting the limited span
this
collection of living cells
has in
this given allotment of
time
Youth calls me to
yesteryear
reminding me of joys taken
for
the moment and tossed away
In delusion of an endless
supply
Mind beckons but body
revolts
and tomorrow keeps becoming
today
as Khayyam’s moving finger
writes
while yesterdays fade to
away and gone
Life, like raindrops must
run its course to the sea
before
it comes again with fresh
substance to a new cycle
But for now I am driven
to hold this day dear and
bright
and sing its praise and joy
before the coming night.
Ray Nielson 2/16/07
But Still
I set here torn
between
What my heart knows
and
What Spirit speaks.
I ask God to but
understand
Or at least help me to
Understand the
paradox
All men are brothers
and
that brotherhood comes
from
The Fatherhood
But still, of my
Comrades-in-Arms,
Those who stood with
me
Shoulder to shoulder ,
back to back
Those who have fallen
and those
Who step up to carry
the
Guide-on and set the
pace
The unbroken line of
us
Who marched forward
often against a
faceless foe
While searching for
Peace
And sleep with out
dreams
And the ability to
forgive
Trying to understand
and trying
to grow into
understanding
while Our Brothers and
Sisters keep falling
In service but removed
from the process
Like the Light
Brigade, marching on
From war to war
Ray Nielson 8/23/05
In memory of those
who keep falling
But a dream
You were but a dream I dreamed
I slept awhile and then I awoke
I slept again and dreamed again
but it was not you that spoke
In the dream we Loved and Lived
then came the day
Arising on opposite sides of the bed.
we went our own way
And if I dream of you in yesterday
it is yesterdays dream
and If you dream of me tomorrow
It still does not mean any thing
For the dream is like the sunset we see
Often repeated never the same
The mixing of dreams and lives
where in love we've lain
And the dream we shared
Is but a memory
A past tense of lives and ideas
and love between you and me
Ray |
