Finis Coronat Opus

My eyelids grow heavy; The day has been long. My soul groweth weary, And mournful, my song. My thoughts are now drifting As my eyes start to close, And sights other-worldly Dart hence, to and fro. Like fireflies that linger In dusk's even glow, Images flicker As consciousness goes. In fair fields I wander, With fairies I fly; Worlds of such wonder Lie under my eyes. What dreams may then follow In blissful repose: All cares are forgotten, All silenced are woes. But soon with the dawn's Eastern glow I must rise, Departing my slumber's Fair journeys of night. Yet day's own enchantment Unseen will abound Til evening falls softly Again on the ground. My eyes will then close, My mind again drift Away to my magical world, Slumber's faery gift. Written September 2018

From whence do strife and rumor come? Why thus do they take hold, When poison drips from silvery tongue And falsehood dim the gold? Why thus do neighbors speak so ill Of friends and comrades dear, Who oft would set their hand to till And share their fellows’ tears? Such thoughtless chatter ought not be  Among the ranks of Light; Such darkened words no tongue should speak,  But seek to mend and right. Originally written February 2019

  In deepest solitude I sit; My mind begins to stray To thoughts of years in distant past And coming future days. The past lies just beyond my reach And aching, my heart yearns  To live again those moments fair, Those lessons to relearn. But fading, mem’ries of those days Melt deep into the mist Of Time’s dark chasm, shadowed dim, In lost lore locked away. Yet what I am came forth from such As now is long forgot; And stamped upon my features firm Is that which now is not. Now, forward wends my wand’ring gaze To times as yet unseen: The years to come hold myst’ries dark With many tales to glean. I know not what my life shall be,  What stories I shall weave;  But time to come is but a breath Before the One Who sees.        During certain seasons or times of the year, I find myself reflecting on the past (my own and in general), and musing on the future. What have I gleaned from past experience, wisdom that has been passed o...

Where have all the good men gone?  There’s still a battle to be won, Yet ranks have dwindled down to none And those still here are pale and wan. Away they’ve gone to seek a name, Their fortune, honor, glory, fame;  But war is here, the evil bane And none to battle, none remain. Rally, captains, call your men  That battles may be won again. Their swords shall gleam, their bows shall bend: Our armies shall the vict’ry win! I wrote this poem 6 years ago, and since then have witnessed many "good men" rise and fight their battles in many areas of life. As a new year begins, this sentiment is at the forefront of my mind; how will I engage my enemies and push others to face their own? Am I merely caught up in introspection, or do those thoughts have an end in accomplishing a goal? Am I focusing on a narrow point in the distance rather than facing the battle in front of me? I generally don't make New Year's resolutions (in the modern sense of the term), but I greatly apprecia...

Along a misty alleyway ‘Mid murky twilight fog A shadow deftly wends its way Beside the moulding wall. It ceases not, it wanders on, Concealing well its face, And keeps to shades and corners dim, Or where the light should wane. But nightly shadow growing swift Hides naught from spirit’s gaze, And knowing looks and eyelids quick Meet trav’lers on their ways. Ah! fading specter of the past, What terrors you have seen While on your brow is written fast That such as is has been. Originally written 08/28/2019 While writing this poem I was struck by how fleeting time is, yet how those brief moments are remembered throughout future generations. How do we apply what we have learned from our forbears? What are we doing to impact our heirs?

The city streets abandoned lie,  Their stony paths untrod; The houses sit forgotten by As vultures wheel above. Forsaken is this ancient town That once was filled with life; Where merchants had traversed abroad,  Where shone the summer’s light. But winter came, and warmth did flee  The homes within this place. The children singing merrily Lay buried in the grave. For rather than prepare for cold The people still would play, Stop up their ears from warnings told,  And waste away their days. So when at last the snow did fall And blizzards howling came, The townsmen did forsake their halls  To flee the storms in vain. Alas! they swiftly met their end ‘Ere warmer climes they found: In hunger’s pangs they named the dead  Laid in the rocky ground. Their city now is wolves’ abode, The haven of the stork. The people heeded not sound word,  But did refuse to work. Thus, generations ended swift,  An ancient line did die; For rather than perfect their gift...

Alone I stand upon a cliff. Eyes wand’ring o’er the ocean’s drift;  I ponder long on legends great, E’er ancient kingdoms met their fate. For long ago, long since forgot,  Fair men of old faced fiery dart  ‘Mid battle tumult, standing tall  Til war was won and dragon fall. Alas! Their sons remembered not, Nor cared to think of kindred lost, But rather stopped their ears and said,  “For mine alone I’ll win my bread”. And so the ancient lands would fall, Their children conquered, brought to thrall,  Deposed, destroyed, crushed into dust By their own selfish, wanton lusts. Thus, as I stand above the shore, And muse upon the tales of yore, I fear for many of my kin Who follow swift those former men. Let not desire take hold your heart  For kingly gain or sovereign’s part,  Lest blind you turn away your gaze  And meet demise e’er break of day. For from such shade is little hope To break aside that filthy yoke: So guard your hearts and steel your s...