Though the night is cold and the hour is dark
Stars rain diamonds from Heaven.
Gently grace the garden
That grows
from the past.
All those times,
all those times,
Seed sown and scattered,
Planted and blooming,
Rage in the Light of the fire of life.
Unique,
free and alone.
All the tears,
Each and every one a
Pearl reflecting
The individual
Held Holy in the Hands of God.
There,
Grace reflects
upon the water of life,
the past, now, and future.
Your hands are of the Light.
For you are the Light of the World.
Poetry is spoken quiet in the
Night
Near the fire, eyes look into eyes as
the poet speaks.
And all remember.
Hand upon hand,
Embrace and entwine,
as the stars of night
dance on the waters
of dawn.
As ever be well.
Stephen Craig Rowe
4 comments:
Stephen, I can only imagine your garden as is beautiful as your poetry and artwork! *smiling*
I read your poem and then looked up and out of my window at the most beautiful sunrise over the smokies.....what a wonderful start to a day.
This beautiful post is perfect for a full moon. I am glad to see you about and posting, Stephen. Hope all is well with you and you are painting as well.
Oh Mr. Stephen - Ms B1tch stops by to seep in relaxation after her time at Big Fancy Club. Her feet hurt, her back, too, and sometimes she wants to say, "pah! pah on you!" but she does not!
Mr. Stephen may know my alter-ego- and if so "shhh"! - and if so, he knows that the alter ego will have such a hard time dealing with The Human in certain ways! Pah! pah!
So, Ms. B1tch sashays her cuteness over here and sighs sighs with pleasure at class and wisdom and beauty.
Your heart is your finest garden, Stephen.
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