Beneath the way...

Beneath the way
where darkness paves
a sliver of light comes forth to lay
its heavy head upon a statue hew from slab of stone
looms over the residence of flowers which can only grow
beneath spring where her colours blow...
in ever constant contemplation
across the solitary place where words cannot be thrown
for man likes to cast them stone by stone
words can be remedy or instilled with death
words are far worse than that slaying of a sword

The statue's face was not of that
which would comfort you so silently
his hermit face is stiff quite like the stone
he gives no heed to cries or lamentations...

To what does owe such glad affair
to be gazed upon much less be aware
that light would gaze much less stain
upon this place...

and so the statue,
winged thing
face like an angel, seraphim
on one hand a mighty sword
upon his back two wings spread out gloriously
upon his chest a mighty crest
which speaks of God's mighty strength
his eyes bore a symbol of God's mercy
though his eyes were shaped by human tools...

So he sighed and then he said;

I look each day towards the skies
and wonder why
my existence came
whether it was cruel hands which gave
me prison here to stay forever this way!
I have no hands which can move
nor lips to praise the day...
I have no heart to seek for love
nor to embrace the feelings that flesh and bone are given to...

She looked at him much in appraise
perhaps it was lined within his face
She said to him as quiet as can be
to him like angels singing symphony

The Lord creates as He pleases
The Lord gives life to those He wills
within their hearts He would instill
the feelings, wrought from His own mighty hands
He will carve within the human heart
a thorn of pain and a seed of joy
which both are married and both shall employ
for it is what man should endure

If pain does not exist to be
and pleasure flows so freely
then how shall man know what Christ Jesus did
to gain for man their freedom?

Though you are hard
and your office stays
in a position where you can only face
you bear the soul which sings in the winds
to inspire those who pass your way
You are hard
you are made of stone
but your face

though there was no trace
of him moving at all
the statue hew whose office was
surrounded by layers of green moss
a butterfly had rest itself
upon this hardened substance's shelf
it went about its merry way
to sing and dance as her spirit may
the constant singing did bouquet
a question if he could only part to say

'what causes you to sing in joy
what stirs the soul and make you rejoice?'

Her petticoat a shade of crimson red
with lace of orange, blue which stained
of floral things which decorate
around her wings
and round her head
she lift her brows
and breath escaped from her chest
he let her rest upon his breast
he looked at her and questioned why
she would ever look at something so cold in the eyes

I am neither warm, nor comfort to the eyes
I neither sing, nor rejoice nor compromise- in feelings, or contemplations or anything of such
why do you grace me with your dainty touch?

She gazed upon the fellow's face
and drew her lips to curve in smile
she was of spirit mercy mild
her hair though red like fire dancing slowly in the wind
she traced his face
and gazed upon his face
and saw some beauty which she had never seen...

That was how I saw what was within...random though it may so seem...
a dreamer's dream...of a dream of a dream?
a meaningless thought which digresses acres long...

This place I come often to contemplate
for its place is secret to me alone
where I can sit upon this stone
and think of things in silence...

Of course He sits beside me when
I contemplate of things within
He pulls me close
and rest my head
upon His chest
where lies my bed
His hair would feel as smooth as silk
far more than that...what more His skin?
His lips would be still but rosy shade
within them lies the sweetest honey sweet wine
ever made
His hands of course they carry that of staff and rod
which guides me ...

I just want to sit right here
to be near to Him...to be near to Him...

He didn't say a single word
Nor reproach me for what I've done
instead He made three crosses over me
one on the head, the lips and then the heart
then He laid a sacred lover's kiss
which only He could give, and so my soul she sighs in bliss
to have my lover, lover...kiss
me ...
with nothing to say
we held each other close ....