Lawrence

You, seen through your own soul by my own

Lawrence is good as a sunshine ray,

reliable as an April day,

sure as a road walked before;

strong as a childhood belief,

timid as a morning song,

playful as a kite in the wind,

straight as a goal pursued,

firm as a lighting storm…

But where the marsh is…

where the marsh seems to wait steadily

for that that might dissolve it into eternity

Lawrence becomes bird, song, perfume, comet;

his heart expands deep enough to embrace the world,

his face meets the breeze with an open sight,

his thirst seems to be quenched by the morning dew

As if it were hope

And there he smiles with the plenitude of those who believe,

and there his search rests acceptingly for the nigh

and there he turns around and sees far beyond of what is there

and quietly and briefly,

without promising any impossible possible

yet without doubting the certainty of the uncertain

with a wink in his smile and a smile in his eyes

he extends his hand and hushes me.

J Sanders