Pages Of A Woman's Soul
SEASONS WITHOUT STRIFE
Lying here, the rain
weeps at my window
keening violet shadows
in a spring of wondering tomorrows
and lost yesterdays.
You speak to me
in tones of varying emotion
and I wait to feel
the presence and breadth
of meaning in your words.
There it is.
That sigh of deeper things
that whispers despair...
hope...want...
love...confusion...
In the silence there is
peace that lies between us
as we cross the threshhold of miles
and step into each other's spirits.
Destiny knows its own mind.
It presses us onward
without knowing our
ultimate destination
and in our shared tarriance
we discover that this pilgrimage
is essential to our present tense.
Holding onto this nexus
we mourn our pasts and
I crave for us a future
of eternal seasons
without strife.
K. Tate Jacoby
copyright 4/4/08
weeps at my window
keening violet shadows
in a spring of wondering tomorrows
and lost yesterdays.
You speak to me
in tones of varying emotion
and I wait to feel
the presence and breadth
of meaning in your words.
There it is.
That sigh of deeper things
that whispers despair...
hope...want...
love...confusion...
In the silence there is
peace that lies between us
as we cross the threshhold of miles
and step into each other's spirits.
Destiny knows its own mind.
It presses us onward
without knowing our
ultimate destination
and in our shared tarriance
we discover that this pilgrimage
is essential to our present tense.
Holding onto this nexus
we mourn our pasts and
I crave for us a future
of eternal seasons
without strife.
K. Tate Jacoby
copyright 4/4/08
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SEASONS WITHOUT STRIFE
SEASONS WITHOUT STRIFE
