The Phosphorescence Lapping.

I raise my eyes in silence
towards the vast solemnity,
distant fading stars,
great symbols of eternity,

sensing that there is something
invisible, veiled from sight,
a portal to reach and tear
and reveal a realm of light,

unutterable mysteries
words can never convey,
beyond this time-trapped
confluence of breath and clay-

dimensions
only few have ever seen,
holy men in ages past
in prophecy, vision and dream

but then I know that all
can gaze upon the dew,
the moon upon the water,
the sky's ethereal blue

or in privileged reverence gape,
in wonder and in awe
at the phosphorescence lapping
so close upon the shore.

Three Travellers (revised)

Three travellers, meeting on the mountain-side,
paused to speak briefly, each to each.

Said the first:
I seek the mountain's distant height,
the mighty summit's peak,
beyond the struggle and fray,
the endless lies, the dark deceit,
the never-ending thump of guns,
the bigotry, prejudice and conceit,
O high, so high above
the plain's violent stagnation
I seek a vision and a dream
and in desperation flee
from oppressive humanity.

The second replied:
This ledge is sufficient for me.
I have long stayed observing here
and I delight to see
the curious scurrying and strife
on the distant plain below,
the march of armies, the boom of guns,
the inevitable ebb and flow,
and when this ceases to delight
then I raise my eyes up to the sky's
interplay of colour and light
or wrap myself in velvet night.

The third said:
I have walked to the summit
and now return to the plain,
though the armies plunder
and the rapacious growl for gain.
I have heard the orphan's cry,
the widow's sorrowing groan,
the homeless sigh,
the wounded moan.
I descend, taking what I can,
gifts ever so slight and small,
touch soft and gentle like a kiss,
words as kind as healing balm
and empathy that is palm to palm.

Three Travellers.

Three travellers, meeting on the mountain-side,
paused to speak briefly, each to each.

Said the first:
I seek the mountain's distant height,
the mighty summit's peak,
beyond the struggle and fray,
the endless lies, the dark deceit,
the never-ending thump of guns,
the bigotry, prejudice, the preening conceit,
O high, so high above
the plain's violent stagnation
I seek a vision and a dream
and in desperation flee
from cruel, oppressive humanity.

The second replied:
This ledge is sufficient for me.
I have long stayed observing here
and I delight to see
the curious scurrying and strife
on the distant plain below,
the march of armies, the boom of guns,
the inevitable ebb and flow,
and when this momentarily ceases to delight
then I raise my eyes up to the sky's
interplay of colour and light
and wrap myself
in glorious velvet night.

The third said:
I have walked to the summit
and now return to the plain,
though the armies plunder
and the rapacious growl for gain.
I have heard the orphan's cry,
the widow's sorrowing groan,
the homeless sigh,
the wounded moan.
I descend, taking what I can,
gifts ever so slight and small,
touch soft and gentle like a kiss,
empathy that is palm to palm,
my tenderness and humanity,
words as kind as healing balm.

With that the first and third went their different ways.
The second stayed and watched them go.
An eagle circled, gliding on the thermals.
To the west, beyond the sea,
with orange glow
the sun suddenly slipped beneath the horizon.
The artillery emitted tiny sparks.
Night sounds emerged.
The Evening Star swung low.