The End...A Beginning?

The End... A Beginning?

The end...?
Finality a question, summation, premonition.
A state nevermore?
To offer suitable explanation, knowledge or qualifications.
Who might such skills possess?
Scholar, cleric, physician, confidant, Life's companion?
Just who?

The end...?
Is there I ask any definitive arena
this term "The end" reveals?
Must "The end" always reference
sadness or desperation's tears?
Might "The end" be synonymous
with as well, "A beginning"?

Let us consider I submit
another path to journey.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Touches

How can I touch,
touch my God?
How many ways,
can my God touch me?

How can I see,
see Him with clarity?
How can my God,
in his world see me?

Along the paths I travel,
how can I tell?
My God walks with me?
What sign will He foretell?

When I reach out,
reach out through pain.
Will my God reach down,
take my pain, let me sustain?

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Pondering Mariner

Beneath golden sun, hanging high,
in endless indigo heaven.
At the water’s edge, shoeless, I meandered.
In wavelets lapping peacefully, on white sand beach.

With slight interest I watched, silent tern,
soar without effort, ‘cross blue expanse.
Into emerald green, of tranquil deep.
Distant horizon melded.

As silent tern glided o’er, dancing, rolling whitecap.
On unseen, sirocco’s flows, my thoughts traveled.
Their course set, to port so far.
To sojourn awhile, with lover pining there.

Remembering her beauty, shining, tearfilled eyes.
Watching her fade, as the wake left behind.
To be messenger, I urge my thoughts.
Convey to her, she longs not in vain.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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The Climb

From the base I looked aloft.
Majestic, intimidating vastness.
Was I able to muster that courage,
to accept the challenge before me?

Weighing upon my shoulders, as if dead weight.
I felt apprehension bear down.
Surveying the mount, foot to summit.
Echoing voices of companions, waxed dim.

Leering questions I must respond to.
Not, can I succeed an attempt?
Nor, do I possess the required ability?
But, do I retrieve the gauntlet laid before me?

Opportunity has presented itself.
My decision must be forthwith.
With haunting anxiety, I stepped to the face.
I will, dispel fear’s tremulous whispers.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Ghost

In the tiny hamlet nestled,
at the foot of the castle’s ruin.
Townsfolk relate a legend,
of one ruler, claimed his own prison

When the even’s darkness reigns.
Spirit of the Regent, rises from the tomb.
In the opaque, ebony dark, patrols the bulwarks.
Shield and sword at the ready, specter in the gloom.

What pray tell constitutes, the reason?
Solitary, royal spirit, guards his camp?
A battle they say was waged.
Greedy rulers lusted, to bring this patch ‘neath their stamp.

The King rejected decree to emancipate,
his fair rule of many years.
So in ferocity and violence, battles raged.
‘Til, one day came to pass, his fears.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Medicine Bag

From the time christened warrior,
‘round his neck, tied by thong.
It like a talisman, mysterious,
the buckskin pouch hung.

As if retaining a secret,
captive, within leather bond.
The warrior cherished the satchel deeply,
for it never left his charge.

Should he ever become troubled,
sought vision of council and wisdom.
With his pouch held to the heavens,
called forth his Spirit Guide.

The warrior gazed into blue skies,
chanting loud his quandary.
Seeking guidance to reveal,
and light the trail to truth.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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To Play the Games

In a special place, in peace they met, they met again.
Far, far from the curse of violence, a place of peace.
Cultivated to propagate comraderie,
Through peaceful competition, garnering good will.
They came to play, from all places, to play the games.
With outstretched hand, they met,
broad warm, warm open smiles.
Renewing memories, they embraced,
light hearts, of past fond rapport.
Renewed friendships, and welcoming new friends.

Shadows of animosity, none to be found.
For the games it was, they came to play.
In contention peaceful, winter, summer,
they would play the games.
In these games, races to be run.
Feats of strength and skill performed.
Team and individual challenges.
Competition always fierce, without question.
Still winners all, losers not accepted.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Premonition

Sinister rack, on yon horizon appeared.
As if on parade, cloud bank advanced.
Obvious, glad tidings they carried not.
Soon, bright sun those nimbus obscured.

From my toil at tilling the sod, I hesitated.
Cast curious glance, to the heavens aloft.
An ominous disturbing display, I beheld.
Premonition, or imagination gripped me.

As my attention, captive became.
The cast upon celestial stage appeared.
Equine charges, wild of eye, snorting fire,
shackled to battle chariots, thundered by.

Reined by armored warriors, they passed.
Through my being, a cold dread coursed.
Pulsing strong at my soul, fear, anxiety, turmoil.
Stench of war, odor I knew well persisted.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Wrath

Day, night, distinction obscured.
By flashes of Nature’s wrath, illuminated.
Naught but nimbus rack, agitated blackness.
All, including immortal Gods, seek shelter.

Is this illustration of elements?
Voicing contempt at ignorant disrespect,
of the sea’s, invincible might?
Indiscriminately, does the deep wreck havoc?

With mounting animosity, the sea seethes.
Displaying disregard, emits unbridled fury.
Demonstrating visibly, obvious fact.
Defense none, shall triumph o’er her ire.

To the sea’s might, the ship, minuscule speck.
Makes tedious way toward the nearest haven.
From angry tempest’s clutches, escape she attempts.
Escape, to the calm of safe harbor.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Spirit of Independence

I, am the Spirit of Independence.
Long before I was known, I existed.
I was born and reside in the air.
On wings of all winds I fly free.
I am immortal and unconquerable.
At times, subtle ‘n’ soft, fleeting.
Gentle, silent as a summer’s zephyr.
Others, rampant as a gale’s fury.
Infectious to all I caress.
Upon me, many have attempted,
to impose their wills.
Successful, only at inviting failure.
In the hearts of free peoples, I thrive.
Those who endure, under tyranny’s rule,
I infect with rebellious paragons.
Souls desiring independence and freedom.
I search out to liberate from their shackles,
all who envision a free life I influence.
To pursue their dreams I encourage.
In all free lands I dwell,

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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