The Strings of my Guitar..

These six strings have run their course,
galvnized steel threads lost their voice -
like so many generations before you,
phrases and scales have taken their toll on you....
so now I will return you ultimately to the earth;
only to restring my guitarra with like kind...
I hope.

Gregory

Through the Flame (When I look into your eyes)

I stoke the the embers and another log catches while releasing
another plume of smoke into the night skies...

I see the fire light  dancing upon your face, and in your eyes.
looking through the flames back at me,
and mine pretending not to notice.

In silence...you are asking me questions that I want to answer...
and all the while i too want to ask...

It it true that we are born to love... my friend?
Should we search the hills and valleys for our other?
When do we surrender,  and aquiesce to the
castings of fate?

Or do we?

What do I see in your eyes...eyes I've never seen?
I too wonder who you are...

My vision is born of the Heart...

I see the warmth of a friend ...
whispering assurances that all is well.

I see the beauty of the heavens in all their grandeur,
and pale in comparison to your beauty.

I see two souls alike....
perhaps like the sparks from this fire...
we have taken similiar paths...

I see the flames dancing in your eyes...

....and now I am burning...
like the fire before us.

(Gregory)

Whither will you go?

I see you return to this place each and every season,
always in awe of your creations of mud, thistle and grass.

You scurry about looking for grubs and seeds...
nar' giving me a hint of attention,
or detection.

Your colors are resplendent as the rainbow herself.
and yet sometimes,
much more subtle and sure to amaze.

I break the ground again...
I'm sure you have anticipated this for some time?
... if the machine is beyond repair,
fear not...I will use hoe and rake
to ensure a good Spring planting...

....and of course, plenty of worms.


When this season completes its course,
and the colds winds return...
where will you go?


What plains and valleys will you see?
Rivers and mountains and marshes will be your home once again.
If I stare south of this mountain,
and close mine eyes,
I can go with you...

if only for a little while...

(Gregory)

Blue Train (revision 36)

tasting the sweet rain tracing down my face...
unitelligible sounds and benign utterances break the silence...
i watch the blue fog slowly move in,
penetrating each and every glance of mine eye...


i watch the blue train slowly pass by ~
soon to chase away the distance between now and then....
acquiring rights of an assumed passenger ~
warming my feet within her cabin's frame,
passing in review before her porters and residents...I ask...

what will they see of me?

who will i let them see?

not me...

not now...

i want to ferry the passageways incognito....
empty and void is how i feel,
still warm to touch,
but too cold to feel...

like this blue train...

like this choking blue smoke...

like the blue cloak of the morning fog.

meloncholy is my mask and mood,

just now...

for this short ride to nowhere.

Gregory

Whispers of the Heart

if love visited me tonight,
would i be the same?

if love touched you tonight,
would you remember his name?

if love visited us tonight...
would we dance beneath the sheets,
or return to the safety of our restless shame?

duplicity and reckless steps are sometimes the symptoms
of passion, but never the cause.

passionate glances, soft touches,
long kisses and dark dreams...
relevant modus operandi.

the nectar saturates my tongue...
canvasses my loins ~
and pierces my heart.

what if love touched us tonight?

would we both be the same?

Gregory

Passion and Grace

Passion and Grace...
a conflagration that touches the listless and dying, searing the despair and hopelessness from human forms...
embracing the child in all of us -
Divine Bellows resounding through all and everything..... His Holy Spirit renewing the old with the new.
Displacing the sour wine with the eternal fruits born of His Salvation .
This Flame still lives within me...
It is born of His Spirit...This Flame that He allows me to hold...to carry on.
Divine Mother of God!  Help me to fan the flames of His Holy Presence -
of His Merciful Love...
of His timeless compassion for all of His children.
Amen.

(Gregory)

notes # 26

tasting the sweet rain tracing down my face...

unitelligible sounds and benign utterances break the silence...

i watch the blue fog slowly move in,

penetrating each and every glance of mine eye...

it is time now, like before.

i watch the blue train slowly pass by ~

soon to be a passenger warming my feet in
in her cabin,
passing in review before her porters and residents.

what will they see of me?
who will i let them see?
not me...
not now...
i want to ferry the passageways incognito....
empty and void is how i feel,
still warm,
but too cold to feel...

like this blue train...
like this choking blue smoke...
like the blue cloak of the morning fog.

meloncholy is my mask and mood,
just now...
for this short ride to nowhere.