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'THE WALK ABOVE THE SUN'
I wish I could walk through our memories
with no time, only wisdom behind me,
plucking our happiness
from any part of time
as angels do harps
in an undiscovered sky
above the sun.
I wish I could walk through our dreams,
bright mist and no pain,
like the greatest day in childhood,
when the sun's light colors any memory,
alongside the angel,
who to a gold harp,
strung our unspoken dreams
and plays forever.
I wish I could walk through heaven;
no flesh, only soul-
just as the ghost leaving visage,
I miss you everywhere;
in my whisper to the sun,
in the mist on the dream,
and in time that sees its memory.
I wish I could walk through forever,
with no fate, only GOD,
who'll find our hands in the sun
touching eternity's length of time,
now that foresight
calls the flowers
to the feet of the sun.
Copyright, MED, 1999
'Mutual Intuition'
I told you on Earth,
we would be in Heaven
and that even somewhere amid
our golden hearts there
we would find a part of each other
we knew we would not die without.
Copyright- Margaret Elaine Davis, 1985
'A Benediction'
In the Soul's deepest chamber
I found years-
I opened every box
and found our pieces;
I heard you laughing there
and fled to the sound of your soul-
My eye saw yours and yours mine.
God saw love there
and gave you eternity.
Smile to smile, tear to tear,
we are children of God,
and gods of children
whose times are not synchronal,
but soon.
Copyright - Margaret Elaine Davis, 1995
'The Light'-
Your shadow
in a dream
I found in sleep-
I saw your soul
fly above a lighted day
and heard the light
of all our smiles.
A shadow for visage,
no face to smile,
Your Joy
flew into the sunshine.
A light sent your soul
to love my own-
You hovered afterward
and laughed into the sky.
Copyright Margaret Elaine Davis, 1998
SOUL CELL
The soul is a constant desparation,
silent, but struggling
as a ghost for visage,
the tangible shell of life-
cursed by transparency,
however, blessed
with the substance to absorb death
and remain forever.
Copyright, Margaret Elaine Davis, 1984
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"Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them!" - OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
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“Artists can color the sky red because they know it's blue. Those of us who aren't artists must color
things the way they really are or people might think we're stupid.†- Jules Feiffer
“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple
in a field somewhere and don't notice it.†- Alice Walker
“I have no color prejudices nor caste prejudices nor creed prejudices.
All I care to know is that a man is a human being, and that is enough for me;
he can't be any worse.†-Mark Twain
I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place.
Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings,
but they have always a nostalgia
for a home they know not.
They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes
they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain
but a place of passage.
They may spend their whole lives aliens
among their kindred and remain
aloof among the only scenes they have ever known.
Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide
in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves.
Perhaps some deep-rooted atavism urges the wanderer
back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history.
Sometimes a man hits upon a place
to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs.
Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never
seen before, among men he has
never known, as though they were fimiliar to him from his birth.
Here at last he finds rest.
_________
From 'THE MOON AND SIXPENCE by W. Somerset Maugham, 1919
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