return

Cezanne

Embittered notions
within and around;
Bolt in all directions –
Unmindful, not sound.

Forgetting the place
Where all things turned,
Returning to Jesus
Loving eyes yearned.

I never seem,
At least I ponder,
To live on a line
From which I shan’t wander.

For sine and cosine
Curves repeat their course.
And I endlessly follow,
Revisiting remorse.

Yet forget still I may
The place of rebirth.
Return, I, to Jesus,
God’s hand, such mirth.

rick

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fading grass

Optimistic faces with eyes that are the
opening to a burdened soul.
Do we just exist for birth and death and all in between?
Eventual pessimistic hearts shoulder this burdensome segment.
Try and mask it but remember the eyes do not lie.
See these faces wry with cynicism, remorse following, then, optimism is truly lost.
Hope dies as no solution dreamed of man satisfies.
The line between yielding and uncompromising needs examination.

Mind the winter grass that fades away…
Do you think it sees impending renewal?
For some things are within our reach –
funny how Eternity is closer with open eyes.
Elixirs sought avoid our effort
sneaking off – not even turning to sneer.
Optimism and happiness: anthem of fools.
For as sure as the sun rises and sets,
a mood will ebb and flow lost in selfish pursuit.

“Let go”, cries a voice that few shall hear…

rick

The Repenting Shore

Horizon
O fragrant Spring’s unfurling leaves
Holding fast to father’s sleeves
Mother’s safe and loving eyes
Me a child instinctive cries.

And of this Spring, fresh and new.
Childish steps unsteady, untrue.
I walk upon childish whim –
Changing paths – green grass to dismally grim.

It was a time of youth and innocence
Not time yet for recompense.
Ah – the serpentine trail to discovery charms!
Cheeks of rose in father’s arms…

O sultry Summer bearing down
Long days filled with smiles and frowns
Never enough to satisfy me
Surely answers found intellectually.

And what meaning of this searching ask shall I,
‘Tis filling a soul with whimsical cry.
Always a corner to look around,
Horizon, sunset, happiness found.

Lengthy rows of days arrive.
The cool grass and petals survive.
But alas Summer shall find it’s end,
Troubling days which my soul must fend.

O cooling Autumn steals the day.
Barely saw coming your artful sway.
Leaves turn red, yellow, dry…
Thought I heard a warning cry.

So, lightly I tread, survival at best.
Surely now I could use some rest.
And what of these shorter days?
Why can’t I return to my old ways?

All my life now turning gold,
Once never afraid of growing old.
Yet signs of disaster beginning to show,
With ashen cheeks, more weary I grow.

O morbid Winter, cold and stark.
Leaves me shivering in the dark.
All that filled me with blissful glee
Seems to presently evade my plea.

And what of these empty pleas?
What I need has long passed these.
I hurt inside, hoarfrost stings.
Why must I walk through these sorts of things.

So, tears fall upon my snowy way;
But eyes soon open to a distant Light’s ray.
For there God stands! He already knows my soul,
Cheeks now pure white – stinging frost to grassy knoll.

O fragrant Spring unfurling leaves –
Life once filled but rife with thieves.
Now holding fast to Father’s path.
Life is elation, joyous, scorned past’s wrath.

And what of this new-found day?
Graceful rebirth, all tears washed away.
Purpose pours into my heart
Along with Love – a perfecting start.

It is a time of youth once more
I cling to the repenting shore.
And away fades all those worldly charms.
Cheeks of rose in Father’s arms…

rick

their faces

Calloused and scarred, years take flight,
Heart reels in chaos and lightless night.
Yearning for comfort, Self shall try!
But even to Self, hopelessly awry.

As if a prisoner of Self, in a prison, Self made,
All hidden faces striving not to fade.
But Heart sees them, though be bound in meted gait
O, how long must he, this desirous Heart wait?

For this Heart it breaks for simple things –
Little birds with broken wings
And in the lightless night
Determined to instill hope to those contrite.

What makes our Heart desire simple love?
Maybe the cries of the hopeless below and above.
Seeing faces on flickering flame all around,
They but dance, so long, without word, without a sound.

So therefore a Heart with his darkened places
Confounding Self he sees their faces.
And drawing in a warming Light,
Enough to see life, O waning night.

And compassion staves off consternation
As Light ceases darkened expectation.
As Self, he slinks off, quietly defeated
And this Heart, O, lovely Heart, remains – repleted.

Never alone now, never alone.
This Heart knows Light that has always shone.
And for their faces, his compassion shall see,
A self-less plight, God’s grace shall be.
(c) 2015 rick stassi