Clarity in Muddied Waters

A Messianic Journey Through Pen and Peace. Writing from the Stillness Within.

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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleam’d upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment’s ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From Maytime and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

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Tangled branches bear no fruit

For growth is choked into obedience.

Winter gives way to warmth,

But if the frost is too harsh will anything bloom?

Vibrance contained ceases to give light,

It withers and fails, a slave to oppression.

Favour drained becomes nothing more than an action,

Held too tight,

Life turns to rubble.

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