By Forever's Shores
Two afternoons before Thanksgiving's grand feast,
You and I, Linda, my devoted soul-sharer,
Sleep on a serene seashore, in Hollywood, Florida.
Somewhere deeper than daydreams,
Our heartbeats keep pace with the waves' metronome,
As if playing, in time, to the universe's music.
When we awaken from that sweet refuge,
Our eyes resume their sacred journey with words,
I reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, once again,
You lost in a book of spiritual poetry by Angelus Silesius,
Titled Messenger of the Heart,
Both of us illuminated by the authors' articulate souls.
Although the direction we're headed has yet to be reckoned,
We believe the words and the waves
Have made a sacred contract with God's translator
And that if the two of us are just patient and trusting,
We'll be ferried to the source of our adoration,
Reborn before shore, horizon, and sky were conceived.
11/22/11
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