Some Poetry

Two unrelated poems. Feedback?

If these dark hills were all the world, the world would not be small.

This infinite and endless sky, the lengths that light must fall,

The lamps that hang outside men’s doors, and fill the hills with stars,

The symphony of sweeping winds, the noise of passing cars.

At times we must recall ourselves, by journeying to see

Things not ourselves, things we could never even hope to be

“This then thou art, this neither then thou art” is well and good

But surely thou art not the wind, and thou art not the wood;

The length and span of human heart cannot the world contain,

And none can hold themselves sans martyrdom and pain.

If I am everything, the stars from sullen skies will fall

When I am all the world I see, the world indeed is small

*****

Let’s light the beacons on the hills,

The lanterns on the windowsills

Impelling roving sons return-

The time has come, at last, to learn,

The things most easily ignored.

Diminished things, at last restored

The King returns from Avalon

To sing a hymn in Albion,

And we, the children of the day

Will be made whole, as prophets say

And walk upon a windswept shore

Divine, but discontent no more.