The Poetry Of.
Hal Lorin...............................................................
This is The Room
This is where our journeys are known
Lands where we have gone are shown
And where we have gone has meaning.
The map of our life is on the walls
The circuits of our time together.
Pictures of this journey rest
On bookcases where the memories of
Our parent's trips
Rest in alphabetized folders.
This is where our journeys are known
And where we have gone has meaning.
Time Is The Will Of The Lord
This wheel of summer days
Melts down in its yellowed heat
Dissolving into its own liquidity.
The roses warm unto death
All resolves into a dew
Softening the ground for
Our long resting.
The River
He felt the cross pressed on his brow
However, the sky did not open
No Voice called down
No dove descended
He was not surprised
There was no sign at all
That anyone had noticed
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