How vast is the reach of the universe wide?
How great be the distance between mind and eyes?
How far in both ways does the length of time go?
What distance exists between God and each soul?
 
Illusive the answer to each of these be.
Perspective controls how we think, what we see,
how we judge and interpret the concepts at hand,
the things we consider and just where we stand.
 
We all live in bubbles of what we believe.
We think we see what everybody else sees.
But that which we see at the end of the day
is through a glass, darkly, yeah just like they say,
and someday we’re all in for quite a surprise…
when we learn the distance between mind and eyes.

1 Corinthians 13: 10-12

Dim lit, damp and distant corner
torn from dream of vapor’s fold.
Slow descent to worlds divided,
nothing hot and nothing cold.
 
Long ago this soul forgotten,
cast off in the ides of youth.
Un-forgiven deeds left hiding
beneath the stone of burden’s proof.
 
Wait to see if fate redeems her.
Wait to hear if time repeals.
Sentence passed down just to mar her.
Word and deed like flint and steel.
 
‘Jezebel!’ they mock to call her,
waging war against the skin.
Pressed on by the mob’s directive,
let the judgment now begin.
 
Scrutinize each blood-stained footprint
left across the ice drawn field.
Hide the ones who hold her province.
Never bend. No, never yield.
 
For from that damp and distant corner
ever flows the world of hate
through the veins of those who think they…
hold the key to Heaven’s gate.

A million ways to spend a day
not tried them all but have to say,
 
that if I had the way to when
I’d quiet find and open then
 
the pages of the poet’s hand.
Then fly away to distant land,
 
or feel the fire of deep desire,
submersed in words, I’d never tire.
 
Or float through worlds that few have known,
no boundaries there, no thoughts of home,
 
nor caring what is real or dream
as feelings flow like crystal streams.
 
Which feelings I am lost to find
inside my heart, inside my mind.
 
In daily walk amongst the dead,
cast to the sea with boots of lead.
 
I feel that I would drown and die,
my only hope the thought that I
 
can find again the way to when
I’m all alone with such a friend -
 
the healing words of poet’s hand…
the only words I understand.