by L. S. Heatherly
One should never hesitate to express awe
At the true gems of any living writer.
The greatest ones are never in danger
Of hearing such praise too often;
As they are always ahead of, outside of,
Dwelling deeper than, their Time and Age;
They are in great and lonely need,
Of such soul-arms around the soul-shoulders,
Of their refuged and besieged humanity.
They slowing burn your offerings;
Tend your kindlings into their night of the soul;
You keep their isolated flame,
In their solitary, human camp,
From dying midst winter-storms of civilization.
Your awe at their labor of love,
Is destination for their journey of joy.
Of their refuged and besieged humanity.
They slowing burn your offerings;
Tend your kindlings into their night of the soul;
You keep their isolated flame,
In their solitary, human camp,
From dying midst winter-storms of civilization.
Your awe at their labor of love,
Is destination for their journey of joy.
.
The sound of your voice ends the sounds of silence;
Your message is a candle passed, a gleam of redemption.
.
2010 Creative Commons
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