An Octave on Love

An eagle flies high in the sky,
And the grand mountains cry goodbye
As valleys low begin to sigh,
And your great love will never die

As surely as the river flows
Into the ocean deep below,
There will be seeds of love to sow,
And rains of peace will make them grow

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Crossing the Crossing

Oh God, the thin rock bridge just crossed,
Sharp ridge on either side, chasm below,
And so I clearly see where we had to go
But gratefully it did now show in walking
Across as you mystically led me, talking
And guiding me by your right strong hand
With band of love holding me ever tightly;
Mercifully the crossing was covered in fog
So I could not see the black bog far below!
Yes, it is only as you turn me round now
That my stomach churns as I see behind
And realize the kind of danger just passed;
And now at last I understand your demand
To be bold and hold on without letting go,
And so I have made a great stride forward
Toward the top of this mysterious mount,
Which is, somehow, inexplicably, my life



Note: This is, perhaps, the second poem inspired by a half-asleep/half-awake dreaming