Friday, May 9, 2014

There Are Those Who Worship Fire

There are those who worship fire,
the devil mistress that sneers at fate,
that burns the corpse upon the pyre
and boils anger into hate.

There are those who worship fire
-but no! not the same that brings despair.
Above the base there is a higher;
among the common there is the rare.

For both bad and good can be the blaze,
used to destroy but also make.
A force to build as well as raze,
a thing that gives and not just takes.

The blacksmith’s forge glows with the heat
that transforms iron into steel.
And on the anvil the hammer beats
to create the sword with every peal.

But just as soon could it form a tool
that like Prometheus gives mind to man,
and over opponents he could rule
with not metal - but fire - at his command.

There are those who use this flame,
you can see it shining in their eyes.
Immolated they embrace the pain
knowing from the ashes they again will rise.

And like the phoenix born anew
with a trial passed to make them stronger,
they’ll return once more with the few
to the coals to stand, a little longer.

Slowly their muscles begin to burn
and the black smoke stings their eyes and lungs.
But all things great must first be earned,
any worthy victory is not lost but won.

With one small spark the heart explodes
from the kindled tinder of their desire.
Although it’s water on which they row,
they are the ones who worship fire.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

A Marriage

There once was a young man and girl
who fell deeply into love.
Soon they thought that they should wed
to give glory to God above.
So one fine day the bride-to-be turned
and asked a question to her groom.
“Do you love me?” she asked of him,
“And for how long will this be true?”
Smiling, he said as he gazed at her,
“You know, you have a certain beauty
that never has there been before
and never again will be.
And do I even need to mention
your clever and witty mind?
Another girl with equal smarts
I don’t think I’ll ever find!

Then there is the way you move,
the way you love to dance.
I cannot take my eyes off you,
my heart never stands a chance.
Finally, there’s your ability to care
with the passion you possess.
I know you’ll do many kind deeds
and this puts you above the rest.
So I hope that I have answered you
and quieted all your fears.
For I love you now, and I’ll love you tomorrow,
and I’ll love you in 60 years.”
And so the bride and groom set off
and became a man and wife.
They bought a house and raised their kids,
and together they built a life.

The seasons changed, the clock ticked on,
soon 10 years had quietly passed.
Then 20, and then 30 more,
until 60 had gone at last.
So on this day the wife awoke
with a feeling that she had lost it all,
and with creaking knees and tender steps
walked to the mirror hanging on the wall.
Her hair was now gray, her face was now worn
with the work of 60 years.
And when she saw this her wrinkled eyes
began to fill with tears.
Her husband, who without fail
had stood there by her side,
did just that now and, standing close,
held her as she cried.

But when she asked, “Do you still love me?
Just like 60 years ago?”
He looked at her and closed his eyes
and softly he answered, ‘…No.’
“The mirror shows that you have changed
since that fine day I married you.
I cannot argue with this fact,
I cannot change the truth.
See, years ago your face was young,
now it’s aged and lined.
Where once your brain was sharp and quick,
now you’ve often an absent-mind.
There was a time when you could really cut a rug,
now it’s tough to move around.
And your caring heart has been all worn out,
your passion has been run down.

The mirror on the wall reflects all this,
these things you cannot change.
But what you see and what I see
are not at all the same:
It’s true, you were pretty then, but now you’re elegant
and the twinkle’s still in your eyes.
And though your mind was sharp and quick,
you’re now more experienced and more wise.
And though now you don’t dance to the beat,
my heart still skips a few when I see you.
And your caring heart could not get smaller;
I know it only grew and grew.
So when you ask ‘Do you still love me?
Just like 60 years before?’
I shake my head and answer ‘No, I don’t.
I love you even more.’”