A lighthouse be,
mirror the beauty
of that inward eye,
echo the silence and
become the sea, turn,
return, a beacon be,
reflect the answer,
come with me,
to any ship then
you will be as is
to time eternity
img © Friedrich A. Löhmuller
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.
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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.
Boutman 