I am the maker of my destiny
Through the plot of my journey
To be who I am meant to be
And it's only I who posses the key
Luck might truly walk my way
Situations might lead me astray
All lie in the decisions of my palms
And the hard work of my arms
......
I am looking past the moon.
I am reaching for the stars.
The journey is worth the effort,
The distance is not that far.
I go as far as my body takes me,
My imagination lifts me the rest of the way.
The stars are constant, faithful friends,
Guiding and showing the way.
I've heard it said,
"Stars are the forgot-me-nots of angels",
......
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child
leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, barefoot,
Down from the shower'd halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as
if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
......
The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,
Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light,
Is the flame of life so fickle and wan
That flits round our steps till their strength is gone.
O man! hold thee on in courage of soul
Through the stormy shades of thy wordly way,
And the billows of clouds that around thee roll
......
Deep trust in God—for that I still have sought
Through all the grim doubts that bemock the soul,
When in the amazement of far-reaching throught,
We list the labourings that for ever roll
Like dubious thunders through those clouded regions
Where night and destiny the counsels keep
Of Time developing his shadowy legions.
And when I ve stood upon some hazardous steep
Of speculation—heaving up its bare
And rugged ridge high in the nebulous air
......
The past is a lesson, not a prison,
The past is a mentor, not a captor.
The past is a tale, not a jail,
The past is a page, not a cage.
The past is a foundation, not a stagnation,
The past is a phase, not a maze.
The past is a guide, not a slide,
......
Arising with a flicker of hope
Desperate attempts at perfection
Failing, falling deeper with each leap
Only to fade into oblivion
Seeking futile validation, for the sense of dignity
Replacing dream with duty, for the prize of power
Bittersweet memories forging the journey
Is there a purpose, I ponder
......
But I have a Choice – and forgive me t ' be straight
Life is so – and I don’ need to pace
my whole days – bearing a grunge
on Her Beauty’s Face.
I cannot stay a baby if I'm to set you free.
For I have to climb the steep hill called Calvary.
I need to leave the manger to become a man,
and follow the path that completes Salvations plan.
Although you've just celebrated my nativity,
another thirty years have been given to me.
There are people to heal and I've so much to say
to spread the Good news and walk the heavenly way.
......
Somethin’ very good ‘s happen’
while Azure Cantilena
gingles on my mind – self-curving latitudes
of spritzful euphoria.
Chili in tiny bowls – and then chill out – The Sunset
......