Beauty's Longing

Feather-fingered branches massage the morning sky--
a pale gray pallette awaiting a tarrying dawn;
voices from that distant wood echo
lower, far, far lower than my thoughts.
Music casts its magical curse on
my wooden ears of flesh, where the echoes die.

Elven languages leave me wandering,
wondering whether Tolkien heard them plainer:
songs across the western seas
where gray ships pass away, never returning...
Life of the song, heat of the flame, blindness of the light,
all beyond, far beyond my knowing.

But of Joy, Love, Truth, a mocking fragrance
bugles the hunt for one more day.
Through the gray a bow of promise breaks
and nettles of beauty pierce my stony depths.
At such tortured moments my soul would fly
into eager immolation, losing itself
in the One no mortal man could see, and live.


MNA
3.23.2016

Finding Heaven

When we kiss I feel a glowing coal
off the altar borne with seraph tongs.
Holding hands with you, my fluttering soul
catches snatches of supernal songs.

Swimming next to mortal friend, I’m braced
by the shocking breath of utmost North.
Silly games below are tagged and chased
by departed pets both back and forth.

Favorite films and readings we rehearse
leave lofty allusions in our mind.
Shopping sprees that empty out your purse
covet treasures of a higher kind.

Mixed with homely smells past kitchen doors
comes a hint of frankincense to me;
and each glass the bottle fills--of course!--
shimmers with a spirit none can see.

Dressed in finery or barely clad,
you appear angelic to my eyes.
Thoughts you share, though happy, proud or sad,
echo from a canyon deep...and wise.

Good pervades this region pilgrims tread,
settling, moving, striving to employ
gifts our Giver gave when “Free!” He said:
“Find my heav’n in every earthly joy.”


by Mark Aikins
November 20, 2015