prophēcy and fáith

The doorway to her sleep

She is sleep spelled in her lowly
beach house.
Out of night’s lair the sheep white
and the dune grass loping and bleating
as the wind blithely leaps across the
dew dipped sea.
No gull herd or fish school shall flock
before the sunrise.

Sleep good, fair one, slow and deep
in a creek of dreams
and fairy tales.
In a spinney of dingle wood riven
among the sand plum,
came the keel spume from the fisher’s
it lay fast and soothed, safe and
smooth from the
bellows of the rushy sea brood.

He harrowed near and wide; fought
the skulks with metal
drawn from his scabbard in the
deep dell moonlight-
he breasted three into the gravest ghosts.
He sought her sanctum sanatorium,
her dreamscape;
the knelling of her bed. He knelt
before her in praise,
in the star sky of the nightlong days.

He a cavalier, rind in the quest for love;
she, a fair child of the
wheeling moon.
With a kiss, sleep spelled at rest out
of the dream cell. With
chant and flower under a linen of stars,
a marriage forever
held and blessed. Trade winds from
the dousing east,
waves roaring from the sea latch,

Light on the haygold dunes, the winged
plum seed gilding,
and tern wings ribboned for the fair;
Two hearts.
Pastoral beat of blood held and blessed
in the haloed house,
devout in their vows; their faith each
vast night, and the prayer, and
a birth in the first dawn. A
child touched by an angel of the sea.

The border of her sleep

A piece of daylight

Marbled columns like fat candlesticks-
hard with furled brows
ready to snap. They grip a floor eaten
smooth, stiff and white.

Shadowy lids of night cover them,
hide them away in
furrows of a sunken sunset,
wrought with the vines of day.

Across this hour dividing light from
darkness, ascends
the vials of stars, their light in fiery
spheres; they sweep

The dark line bare- a passage for
heavenlier feet to tread;
spreads the covering splendid of
god’s golden hair:

What hour shall be your hour and his.
The very soul of this sacred
place is his soul.
The evil of darkness shall no longer

Hang hard upon this holy place.
With childlike passage,
all sins sowed from our enemies
are washed away.
(A holy aureole in the spheres of faith).


175 comments on “prophēcy and fáith

  1. Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:

  2. Dolly Vas says:

    Sir I can understand as much as I can ,but lines are awesome commendable

  3. Dolly Vas says:

    Thanks also from the depth of my heart to following my blog sir.

  4. Yash Dadlani says:

    This is amazing! Loving your poetry, Lance.

    Thanks for sharing these beautiful poems. 🙂

  5. cindy knoke says:

    You have the very rare poetic gift.

  6. A bit softer that the others I have read. You show fragments of faith and of anti-faith. In the end, I think faith wins, because without faith it is just nothingness after this life here on earth. Blessings!

  7. Don Swenson says:

    Prophecy is happening which reveals the reality of Jehovah God and his messengers. D

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