The Passions and The Place

 

Such strangeness in the passing years,

We toast the gladness mourn the tears,

And with their flowing growing wise,

We ease the pain with pointless lies.

 

What does it matter in the end,

To choose to give or choose to spend,

The coin that’s mine, just mine today,

Tomorrow will be far away.

 

The things I own will soon be rust,

My lovers so much ash and dust,

The house and home I love the most,

Will soon be haven for my ghost.

 

The gods have placed me on this earth,

A cradle bower that blessed from birth,

My mothers kiss, my father’s hand,

With love I did not understand.

 

I felt that blessing warm my soul,

At once complete entire and whole,

Life’s winter nothing, spring so near,

In faith and hope devoid of fear.

 

For in the night we wait for dawn,

And turning years see life reborn,

The bells ring out the closing knell,

Then peal with rapture ‘all is well’.

 

What will it bring, how can we know,

What glory in the bitter blow,

The axe that felled the mighty tree,

Had hewn the cross that set men free.

 

So when the purpose is not clear,

Wait not the strike nor feed the fear,

The road is steep the going rough,

But men are made of sterner stuff.

 

So look toward the brightening day,

Cast all but faith and love away,

Hold high the axe the flaming blade,

And cut the bonds that fear has made.

 

The New Year waits I feel its call,

I will not stumble, cannot fall,

I want its grace it shines like gold,

It’s in my grasp, its mine to hold.

 

I walk to wonder lightning stark,

My soul as beacon in the dark,

With hope and love in my embrace,

I own my passions and my place.