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.

Category: Stories From A Young Heart

  • The leaves

    The leaves writhed in the morning gale, Twisting in anguish, Avoiding change. Autumn tried to mellow their green hues, Tried to fill them with the fire of fall; But the leaves clung desperately to Summer. They retreated to what they knew- And so they would, Until they succumbed to their inevitable change.

  • Make your mark

    “Make your mark.” Personally, I do not disagree with this statement and it’s values, and yet I cannot help but wonder… To me, it seems as though when someone says this phrase it is implied that whatever mark you make will stay preserved for ages to come; that if it is of real significance many…

  • If I were to…

    If I were to say it I might stumble upon my words But if I wrote it I would fear it’s immortality

  • Floral stars- Haiku

    Held up high by stalks, Edges ruffled like dress hems, Our own floral stars.

  • What- Haiku

    What does she look at, When her face is glazed over? For she is not here.