Lighting Up the Dark

A lamp without a bulb, or a bottle of oil,
Is much like labor in the day, strife and toil.
At night you return, your weariness grows;
You try to hide it, but in the dark it shows.
More evident in the folds of the night
Is one's pain, his grief, than in the light.
For the light pardons all wrongs, soothes all pain,
It governs one along in a gentle refrain.
But the dark dispels one's happiness,
Takes away what love would refresh.

Consider then a man and woman:
As one is like to do in his devotion
To observing the natural things in this life;
Consider further that of man and wife.
Consider more so the bulb, the oil,
And the lamp stand weary with toil.
Interchange either one with man and wife,
Know that each, the other, keeps from strife.
Working together they make a whole;
For the design is such that when full
Of energy from the bulb is the lamp stand
Its structure allows for the bulb to hand
Out light to the room, and darkness dispel.
Protecting one from the torrents of hell.
And understand, this light, this gift,
This power to drive back, the veil to lift,
Is given from two, from two is devised;
It cannot be changed, cannot be revised. 
And from it comes forth another, in form
Of, perhaps, a sister, or brother. 
Such is the light, such is the day.
Such is the radiance of love in May.

Consider then the path you are on;
Not with fear, anxiety, but trust in the dawn
That is sure to come with time and patience.
Craft the lamp and the bulb, or oil. Monstrance
Is what keeps the Eucharist upright.
Eucharist is what heals the blind of their sight.

Consider you now, the blessings made firm
In love and devotion to one whose infirm.
Man and woman, both have faults;
But still God endeavors to, from his vaults
Of heavenly bliss, give them life;
Such abundance saves them from strife.

So consider well, my friend, when the dark
Comes around to take away your spark,
Think oft of the one you love, you will see;
The thought of him, your heart is set free.
Together hold hands, though the dark obscure
The love you bear, of that love be sure.
And with it dawn will come, eventually.
Dawn comes. Of that we have certainty. 

Lighting Up the Dark, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

La Conquista de mi Corazon per Iesus

What eyes are these that do despise?
My own, I freeze; in my heart the lies
That did once overgrow my walls
Now snare me, overthrow, my calls,
Are cut short, like a knife to the throat;
An evil cohort says that I've missed the boat...
I look up now, my face in the dust,
His eyes upon me, I trace the rust
Upon his crooked knife, and blanch...
The same knife I saw, strife, the ranch
Of my father, my mother burned alive,
My sisters killed, or worse...now I strive
With all my might I shake my body free,
The lies, the ropes, these vines, do flee,
And he, this copse yet still alive,
His eyes go wide! as a bee hive
That's suddenly burst aground; he strikes
His arm wild, a thrust that's sound. But shrieks
As the blow has failed to stop me in my tracks;
His body falls, his eyes atop the wall, the shacks
Around us now falter in his sight, he thuds
Upon the ground, his knife a rusty dud
That's crusted in my crimson blood. And I...
Well...I falter, busted in the chest; I die...

Wherefore did the runners go that cried
Out that a summer storm was fast at hand?
Wherefore did they run? If they had espied
It so as to flee from it as they had planned
Why not did they keep me in their company?
Why did they run? Wherefore did they flee?
Without their friend? Their love? Their prize?
Or was I merely that? A fund to their eyes
When times were broke, and money straight...
Now that I do give in and contemplate
My mysterious fate upon the ground where lies
The enemy that came in force, he whom I despise,
I wonder if they loved at all, these men, those boys...
Who treated love as if it were some child's toys.

Cross that fed me in my straight,
That kept me from my bitter hate,
Why did you see me do this act?
What could have made this into fact?
Realize, if you will, I lie upon the ground,
My body heaves a sigh of evil's making;
I cry to you without a single sound,
A sign that death is my body taking...

Did I act for the right reasons?
Did I this evil blot out with justice?
Will another benefit from my treason
Against the almighty? Will I meet with bliss

On the other side of this curtain vast?
Will I find myself in paradise?
Or shall he look upon me? An outcast?
And throw me like a man two dice?

Shall it all be left to chance that I,
A believer in these things who doth espy
The truth within the scope of mine sight?
Shall I leave others to their death? Their plight?
Did not some other man, or woman, or child,
Suffer from my killing him? This most wild
Fiend? This hound of hell's bells incarnate here?
Why should I from this life take evil's fear?
I've sinned, yes, it's true, and killed many  men...
Not one, not two, not thrice, but ten!
And many more besides these tolls...
As many as fishermen do catch from shoals
That go wandering into their nets from the sea...
I cannot count the number, no, not the tally...

Where shall my cause go? Undefended?
Have I in my rage, and passion, been overcome?
Is my life, that is now dust, ended,
Become blotted out? Like the son when done
Is time and the earth itself?
What shall become of my hidden wealth?
My store of courage, my passion for Love?
My desire for sage? Yet I did shun the above
By my act of anger, my wrath and my hate...
Or did I love him greater? Was it the weight
Of the deed done against me that set me free to strike?
To save some poor sod, some woman, child, from the pike?
Who judges all when this life is said and done?
Certainly not you, or me, nor some politician...
And seeing once more before my eyes as I rest,
My head upon the ground, this blessed earthen crest,
I see a boy, smiling back at me, his face aglow,
The love of God his eyes did show.
But looking down I saw that red did spread
From inside the maw did spread that dread
That strikes many a man down to the ground;
Yet his face was angelic, his brow a crown.

And I ask myself, could I have died like he?
A martyrdom? What is that? This fee
Seems madness, lunacy! Daft! Bonkers!
Dreams, sad quests! Empty of treasures!
Yet still, in my head, a song plays on...
Was it this song that led me to this promotion?
This death in the sand? This avenging of men?
This return to the ground in dignity, in peace?
For as I lie on the ground I feel a great peace...

But do I die? Ah! How strange...
For I wake up, where I was, on the range...
The eyes of woman in my sight again;
They fill me with warmth, inside, hidden
From the cold chill of the world I've come to know...
They give me what's real, for the world is but show
To the invisible reality, the justice inside our souls...
God, who trains each of us as young-ling foals.
Her eyes widen, her lips part wide...
A smile upon her! This I have eyed
Since I was a boy in the plain of this land...
But many a man, or boy, may yet understand
How woman's affection may heal rot, disease;
How a Mother, her son, by her sight may please.

Thought you that I spoke of the sex?
Perhaps, but no. And this doth perplex
You. For you do not know Love as it should
Be known, nor even as it is understood
By our souls, by our body, by our eyes,
Don't you see! Love is not in the words,
But in the way we act, our heart flies
At the sight of one truly beloved, and swords
Do part with their sheath to protect it from hoards
That would seek to part them from our sight...
Such was my anger direct, my hatred...my plight.

Returning again to the dust where I lay,
I see the child searching my eyes,
I look again, and he's lying in hay...
And I can tell his face holds no ties;
Not for anger, not for love, but indifference...
That's worse than the rest, for it means once
He did love me greater than I loved him...
My love is reflected in him, my love, and my sin.

Cry I out to him, forgive me my Lord?
A boy...Ha! Simmer down say you,
For I have lost my wits to call a boy, gourd
Fat ling child in a pile of hay, as true
God and Man...
Ah! But I plan...
I plant to overcome your disbelief, your pride...
For I once held, as you, I did hold inside
All that doubt, confusion, anger and hate...
Now I beg forgiveness; freedom from the spate
That drove me into the wilderness of hell...
I long for the sound of an olden church bell...

Where is the rider that galloped apace?
Where are the guns? Heard as in a race?
Where are the sounds that do fast approach?
The sight of the child, smiling, a cross is made...
The sound of an oncoming frenzied coach
Is heard in the streets where my body is staid...

Darkness falls upon my eyes...and I weep.
For I feel deadened. What ties me here?
My indifference, my gluttonous fear.
For the hill I trod upon was too steep
For me alone to climb without God.
I ought to have praised, sung up a laud
In thanksgiving for having tracked down my man,
Rather than having given to pride; such a plan
Might have gone a long way in saving me from his knife...
I might have lived to tell the tale, avoided this strife...

Danos La Paz...I hear in my head...
Danos La Paz...I hear, to my dread...
Danos La Paz...I fear will not save...
Danos La paz...I fear the conclave...

Fast approaching, with limberness, and lithe
On the wind, they strike up; the sound of the Scythe,
I bow my head, not seeing a thing...
I know, to my dread, what my actions bring...

If I believe...does it do any good?
If I do not...does it mean that I should?
O God, do come, with your might rip free
From my wretched soul hell's grasping hand.
Let me not die in this dreary place, I plea;
So far away from home, this wretched land.

And suddenly I see again...
The face of my mother...
And it brings me much pain...
Tears in her eyes for my offense...
Words that speak of recompense...
Wordless, voiceless, merely her glance...
Her eyes a light, a living monstrance...
Then touching my wounds with her hands she sighs...
Sudden pain, and light in my eyes, the replies
Of voices, and sudden return to the earth...
Her face fades away as does the warmth from birth.

I lived to see another day...
Men came and took me away...
They healed my body of sore and pain...
But my soul is wretched, and the refrain
Danos La Paz...Is still in my head...
It fills me with tears, self pity, and dread...

The years go by, the war is over now.
The man has died, the ruinous sow
Has become a memory, nothing more than a dream...
Do not dreams come alive? And make you scream?
I hold my own on my ranch with my wife...
I try to hold back, stay out of the strife.
But the peace that once held, the battles once before,
Now threatens to turn, like the wind at the door.

I look in my heart and see her face, Mi Madre,
And through her, her son. What can I say?
I vow obedience to life for others now.
Though I don't know when, nor do I know how
Time should deliver me up to Her and the Son,
I know I shall bow then, and then I shall have won.

                        La Conquista de mi Corazon per Iesus, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

To Walk or to Sprint?

A drop of gold, pale as the morning sun,
Foretold of old? Perhaps, but not yet done.
The speed of light, with ease she walks,
Far from our sight, congenial talks
Are held between you and I,
As we run too and fro, lest we die.
For overtaking our position, where we do stand,
Is a dark cloud, undone we are, and demands
The cloud that we enter into it's depths;
Yet we run ahead, away, through the clefts 
Of the cliff we hide ourselves, away.
Pressing forward, always, towards the light of day.
And in this run, this sprint, this pace
That keeps us moving so fast apace
We grow accustomed to one another's sight,
Speaking little as the conundrums bite
Becomes plainly visible overhead;
That darkened cloud that inspires dread.
Yet in the silence, the stillness of heart,
Is where a true friendship may begin, may start.
And as we both run towards our goal, the Son,
Both race towards the finish line, where is won
Eternal salvation, and freedom from the cloud,
Where forever we may, our God, adore and laud,
As we do this, as we move forward still,
Our sight begins to dim, and until 
We see again we are threatened anew
With the stormy blast, the cretin brew.
Our senses fail us, we forget each other;
Though in truth we be sister and brother.
Then reaching out to the silence let us see,
And then we shall find, in each other, harmony;
Enough to finish the race and then some more,
To give to others examples, to implore
Through our silence a hidden strength inside,
One that's stronger; a fen, hidden pride,
Becomes our talk like clothes we've adorned;
And with it we falter, we fall, and are mourned.
So even as the sun is obscured up ahead,
And we do seem to be left for dead,
Do not fear to run on, know I am with you, my friend,
In prayer, in Love, in devotion, to the end.
Sense my silence, sense God's presence in me,
As I surely will in you, as in a boundless sea.
Continue to run, run hard, so as to win!
Avoid that dark cloud, stay far out of sin.
Believe in what you desire, desire what is good,
Forsake not the light for some vintage hood.

My friend, you are the sun to those who have not seen,
Do unbend yourself, do sum up yourself, what has been
Is no more, what is to come is still unsure.
Trust in God, and your life you will surely procure. 

                      To Walk or to Sprint? (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Electric Garden

A twang filled sky comes to mind tonight,
Comes a string quartet with all their might,
And silence dawns, a breach of grey light,
Then stands the figure, we hear delight,
A melody, soft and sweet to hear,
A melody, beautiful, and yet queer,
A cross between a doe, a young deer,
And the snarling dog, which you do fear,
The stalk of a predator, his stare,
The taste of his eyes, the standing hair,
Electric waves do crash, like a snare
In the forest that lays waste, lays bare
The intimate feelings of your soul,
Tears one apart, and yet makes them whole,
Thunder crashes down on earth bellow,
One wakes with speed, and a lightening show
Draws many a face with eyes to know
The sound of the sight which they now taste,
It draws them to the dawn with great haste!
It makes them wonder, light and sound laced,
Into a thunder, this dark figure.
So now they are drawn to the white dawn,
They see the silence light now upon
This figure who holds in hand so sure
A stringed instrument, a guitar blur...

What words express long lasting friendship?
Can it be a dull word? Or must it be a quip?
Can it be expressive, or must one word do?
Can it be hidden in something like a shoe?
Must it be in strange poems of light and sound?
Or can it be within a single sight thus found?
Does love become a moment, or a day?
Or a year for that matter? What do you say?
What words describe what always remains?
What expresses the joy's through sorrow's pains?

Enlighten me, O spirit of understanding;
Lest I too my words, ignorance bring.
Let me be shown the words that I must speak, forsooth!
Lest I speak to my friend, anything but the truth.

And in the end what shall I say to him?
But that I am thankful that with him I swim
In a myriad of mystery's, a plethora of thought,
A time of many memories, which our time together bought.
And I'll consider myself a dull witted friend,
If in time I forget, and shall hope he will mend
My foolish mind that forgets so easily,
And from my foolishness may my friend set me free.
Yet no matter the time that passes by,
I know, and so does he, as surely as the sky
Is blue without the clouds to obscure it,
That friendship is more than speedy wit,
More than the talent of a guitar in hand,
More than the words spoken, rehearsed or unplanned,
It's more than clever words put down to pen,
And more than what society say's of men.

What is friendship? I haven't a clue.
Yet strangely enough, I think what is due
To follow from a friendship is certainly time;
And that love from history creates, shapes, a rhyme.

So I see the dawning rays of light,
That bend from the guitar, this figure of might,
I hear in his song a thousand melodies,
A thousand moments, many memories,
And too hear the sound is enough to keep,
One from despair, such that he may weep
To hear the sound of a gentle breeze
Playing upon the golden crisp leaves.

For hidden in the realm of the invisible sight,
Is the greatest beauty one can behold.
And in the waves of sound our souls take flight,
Turn warm as day, transformed from winter's cold.

That is why friendship is invisible.
Because one cannot see the union of a soul...

Now I listen to the sound of my friend draw near,
He calls out to me, and I know, I have nothing to fear.

                         Electric Garden, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Shaking Things Up

From whence did the form come that it came so
Speedily, as a shooting star that falls
From orbit? It's glimmering sheen a show
Of fire, sparks of gold, resplendent halls
From memories long ago blaze before
Mine eyes in this single moment of sight.
For to see her is likened to a door
Of Iron that is opened to the dark night;
Such is the might of her beauty, that touches
The deepest depths of the soul. What villain
Could escape from this blaze, the clutches
Of her piercing gaze, the gaze of the sun
In the form of a gentle woman's face;
One that does tell evening "move apace!"
That the sun may rise again to see her,
Who shines in the night as a beacon sure
To those who have never seen sun lit rays;
Surely she is a sign of endless days.

And though the one I speak of, immortal
Beauty, piercing gaze that touches the soul,
May only be compared with to these things
As a metaphors to reality,
Even so I shall compare her; she brings
Out such images, such depth, as a sea
That cannot be fathomed by any man.
So is woman, so is she, a great fan
Of the imagery that man does use. What
Other being shall he take note of in life
That does not limit himself to a shut
Window, a closed door, life full of strife;
But woman's beauty and piercing gaze makes
Him humble; and in her presence he shakes.

Shaking Things Up, (c) Luke Bennette, September, 2012

CTL Flyer

When you fly through the air, avoiding trees,
You avoid the snare, but aren't the bee's knees.
And though you float high above all of us,
You can't be here in this CTL bus. 
But still, at least we know you're around,
Flying higher still, sometimes upside down;
And though we'd rather you be with us now,
We're glad that you've managed, and to you bow
A nod of encouragement and delight,
That you keep up your courage, the good fight.
Tie up the line, and get in the jet plane;
Watch out for the clouds, stay out of the rain.
Wherever you go think of us below;
Take our memory with you where you go.

                       CTL Flyer, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

The Lord's Mountain

With loving ascent let us ascend high
And lofty white peaks; where the breathing sigh
of God may be heard by the one who seeks
His powerful word. Let the wind now streak
Through our whitened hairs, or brown, or black, or
Golden hue of sun; let not this great Orr,
Precious metal, be by us lost but won;
So while we trek this hill in simple garb,
We with a cord tie ourselves to the one
That ties us all together with a barb
Of suffering, of pure light, and of bliss;
Yet though this trek be to us a great fight
To climb the blessed peaks, let us miss
Not what we left behind, bespeaks the might
Of God in our hearts. And though our eyes do
falter from time to time upon the great
Valley bellow our brown lit robes, and dew
The likes of which drank, that second rate
Water devoid of life, that stank, though these
Sorts of things which once we valued with love
Do occupy our minds now far above,
We strive, nonetheless, through the mercy of
One whose peace is likened to a white dove.
But here the rocks do fall atop us, now
We cringe and fear the trek ahead, we bow
Against the wind that strikes our faces, drink
Deeply of the cold chill that takes our breath
As the travelers fee; what greater brink
Is there to walk than the one we do? death
Made powerful than the one we aspire
To? wherefore can we discover our God
Better than in the present sufferings? laud
Out praises more sincere? or trust in our
God's love, even though we do fear to loose
His precious gift? where else near or else far
Can we find in order that we may choose
To give to God what he now desires?
This is the mountain of our God we walk,
Though Earth it be called in all people's talk.
And as we age we climb it, higher still,
Or die upon the steps for lacking will
Of purity, humility, having
False desires for our fill water,
Or bread to eat; thus do I pray He sing
You a blessing, that you may then be sure
That he will be with you always, and then
In peace you may give yourself, a gift to men...

                     The Lords Mountain, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012