Crossroads

Wherever I may roam in the kingdom
of my mind, wherever I keep looking for
some music resonating, wherever on
my way I meet the crossroads yet again,
in doubt of paths to choose, it is you I
turn to, and silence then is overwhelming,
still I am carried, and to my wings your
breath is life supporting, even  in deepest
darkness your lighthouse penetrates and
should it be the sun revoked its rays,
or oceans’ waves were nevermore to
kiss the sandy beach, I know a harbour
there, beyond all words there is your
kingdom, beyond my dreams there is
your answer: wherever you may roam
be welcome here.

All Souls

I know that finally my soul
will leave this nest that once
grew out of the fire of Love’s
call and like a bird then it will
fly into the night so gently
touched while focusing the
turning point for a new journey
But when it meets the distant
call of home this soul of mine
shall want no more and shall
into Eternal Presence
settle down and
come to rest

(above: “Heart & Soul” Nebulae, IC 1848,
6,500 light-years away in Cassiopeia)

To all

To all with ears: they hear,
to all with eyes: they see.
Let’s not be blind to all
what’s written and to all
that flows, wherever you
may go you leave something
behind, so is the memory
the mirror of the mind
and with each footstep
there is more to tell,
o yes: wherever you may
go you leave something
behind.
To all with heart, to all
with love: they shall inherit
paradise, wait not, moments
are wings, and to a dying
day they are as intimate as
to your lips a kiss, so then:
fly high above the setting
sun, and rise above the oceans,
open, breathe deep, drink, and
be, for in the end remember:
to all with ears they’ll hear,
to all with eyes they’ll see.

(picture taken @ Kallo, Belgium)

Drifting

What does a cloud win by drifting there
on wings unseen, on what was uttered
in a silent voice, your Eyes still
hidden in the Night? What does a cloud
win by drifting there on wings unseen,
on a word,a murmer, your whisper from
afar? What does a cloud win by drifting,
drifting in an open sky, and only Sister
Moon to welcome this one homecoming sail,
since by its presence Brother Sun for once
obscured, cannot take part in celebration?
What does it win, and what is there to win?
O Lord, it is Your breath inspiring, Your
silent Word on which we drift, should any
army ask for our surrender it is You we
turn to, and You lift our sail, You make us,
make us drift on wings unseen, and homecoming
then, effortlessly, we wonder: what was there
to win?  The answer then is drifting, drifting
there on wings unseen.

Leaves

In the forest of my dreams some leaves
are wandering, I wonder whether they
will walk me home, from tree to tree I
keep on walking but the snow keeps
coming in, as if an unseen hand is there
to cover all my thoughts, to sleep is to
return, then I see you, I close my eyes
now, it is time to pray, O, walk with me,
to be a leave and wander through these
woods, sweet fragrance of a lullaby, O,
come with me and I will sing to wake you
up, from tree to tree then walk with me
and when we reach the mountaintop
then dream with me, so to the forest we
will be as to the snow these wandering
leaves.

(picture: Heverlee Forest, Belgium)