FINAL FANTASY

The Soul selects her own Society
A county of Faith, path to Ideas
And Friends that point to her

Divine majority, that include
The chief work of our Fate, if any:
The unmoved low gate-river

Of how we made the World
A better more beautiful place
Life’s opportunities do not always

Escape the circumference of our birth
But sometimes an alien Will
Gives our spirit ideal conditions

To do what we were meant to do
Our bit of Bliss before we forget the light
Those dawns and sunsets that

Stamped our brow, the soul meanwhile
Lives on, in the sweet curve of years
And desires wonderfully renounced!

ACADEMY OF FINE IDEAS

The Prologues are over, they are done
The questioning is a fiction of not accepting
A Life we are given, choices in a fiction
An ultimate Elegance in an imaged land

Surreal are the chapters that made up
Our stages of experience, our stories
Of belief, we were islands of voices
Each playing out our internal narrative

From the inside-out, like a diamond pattern
Of the algorithms of fate, it wasn’t a rumor
It was the feeling of being burried in Jasmine flowers
The weight of walking over newly fallen snow

We lived without external reference
Hoping to reinvent ourselves in some design
But the Sea is so many written words
With vowels that all sound the same

Made of white foam and water molecules
With a rosy-golden rain of the same waves of Light.

PAUSE BEFORE DEATH

Death is the pure potential
Of a life to be more, to go Beyond
Anyone, still we meet God

Though if God be but not Immortal
But a cultural refuge, this must be
An instrument for our Creation

The longest enduring Friend
To hope, with faith, for a Future
That might evolve from our Pursuit

Itself, everyone, to be dissolved in God
The Galaxy that remembers
Ancients, inheritance, ancestors extinct –

Death is the pure potential
Glowing in the metaphors that endure
And Everything that happens
Should be perceived as a Miracle.