Sunday, October 21, 2012

Mon Amie qui avait une belle sourie...

Sitting in silence we oft do forget
That the Spirit of God, tis a safe bet,
Is within us, without worry or care;
Supplies us with an unlimited fare
Of peace in our hearts till the end of day,
Of joy for the soul--as the month of may
After a cloudy streaked sky in winter
That has done nothing but give us shiver
After shiver when we walked outside. And
Having sat there in silence we smile, hand
Over hand, our lips draw back in a grin
That reveals contentedness; all that's been
Flees at the thought of his presence. Tis we
Who have been graced within, our souls do see
No misery at all, do somersaults
Within it's protection, safe from assault
By the enemies hand; we are free to
Give our all quite happily! In a true
Spirit of rest and peace we open our
Eyes in order to look upon neighbor
With new perspective and revere; we know
That the Spirit is waiting upon woe
After woe in these troubled souls who keep
Inside of them a trove of pains that steep
Their heart's all black and grim with frightful pain!
We through the Spirit a gentle refrain
Begin to utter. This poor weary chap
We help to forgo his world of mishap
Through cheerful dialogue, through vibrant speech;
Within his heart the Spirit might have reach
When we have softened it by Spirit's gift,
This power to soothe, bolster, and uplift!
In time the troubles within this chap flow
In rivers of tears; the sight of this show
Of fears leaving the mind and body make
Anyone of rage and hate think twice, stake
Their opinion outside of themselves, leave
Their quarrels for healing. They do believe
At seeing the results of your discourse
With this sad perturbed chap they once knew Morse
Code, an invisible sign, a renewed
Spirit that has been now so much imbued
With peace enough to stand still in his seat;
And the proof of this, the proof of this feat,
Are his hand in hand, and the smile on his
Face that suggest a new-found way of bliss.

You who do read, consider well
What I have spoken, what I tell,
As being reflective of you;
A true friend, who art ever true.
Though at times you may be at odds
Within you soul, when your mind trods
Slowly, in pain from cloudy days
When the sun shines not in it's rays,
Consider that you oft are, for
Those that listen to you, a door
Of sunshine and a ray of hope;
Of optimism. We do cope
Better in the weather of gloom
When we hear you, let go the doom
That holds our hearts in frightful chains.
We weather the storm, the cold rains
Because we have peace in our heart
Which you did implant there, did start
By your words and your actions of
Optimism; makings of love.

Dear friend, do know that we forget
Not the times when we did so fret
In pain and turmoil of the soul;
When you did soothe us, make us whole
By your discourse calm presence.
To us you are a gift, presents
Unwrapped on such a cloudy day
That we do beg for but one ray
Of sunshine in our lives, just one!
You the brightest ray of sunshine have outdone.

                    Mon Amie qui avait une belle sourie, (c) Luke Bennette, October, 2012

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