On this side of the moon there is peace,
There is a an oak to rest my intellect,
And pass on to the blue river bank
For my soul to go nude and cleanse
All that has for years got engrossed.
This river is for ages sinuous and leads
All souls, all saints to the ocean of hope.
There are no pebbles to secure my feet,
But softness of white sand all around.
All memories seem like a mockery,
And all emotions, a wastage of time.
The ocean is not far, just eyes slept
Awhile and dreamt of eagled tombs.
On this side of the moon there is peace,
Some poetry as a prelude to unfold love.
I will write more verse than mere vision,
As my muse is my mettle to the show.
To no Troy shall this soul ever turn,
But with the blue stream slickly flow
To meet the tides where ancient gods
Preach precinct deeds of the dawn.
On this side of the moon there is peace,
There is a choice for cutting the clusters.
To fathom the fear of the self is glory
So needed and known to build our kind.
There is a swan so white to follow
In these troubled waters of our time.
The Soul's Whisper 