
Wingless Angel
Lifetimes longer than the age of stone, even from sea’s beginning, I counsel with tides, trace runes on the sky, call ravens to my soul.

Lifetimes longer than the age of stone, even from sea’s beginning, I counsel with tides, trace runes on the sky, call ravens to my soul.

Earth trembles in rain soaked ground, yet the sea is calm, the old trees heavy with many winters. The peace I know no longer flitting

The sunlit path, orange-gold on the sea, one lone fisherman trolling the depths for the wisdom that might free you from the ancient snare. Prayer

After a deep ebb tide the sea slowly floods, covering the mystery with saltwater healing. My heart rests between rise and fall, the pain of

Into the wordless silence I spirit-walk the new day, bare feet to ground, eyes open in early light. Shaped and shriven by the quiet earth,

In silent dark the soul rests in solace hidden from city lights. The healing night and flooding sea, God’s face unveiled in quiet beauty. Now

Today there is one path, one tide flowing before me. The greater powers move sun and moon, earth and sea, yet reach down indelible and

Greet the morning where stone touches tide, quiet as mountains rimming the sea; discord dissolved, healed the fractures, heart cleansed of violent debris. Into the

The briny smell of weed clinging to bare rock, swirls of water rushing south as ebb tide drains the inland sea, emptying the stone-lined cove

Moonstruck beauty of the sea, wind-driven from flood tide’s peak, chased south along the old salt veins of gravity and night shadow. Root me deep

Black silhouettes of trees against dark night beauty, tidal rip of moon and sea. I lay down the weights of lives never lived, hurts given,

I draw breath between swells, the rise and fall of the city sea in the rhythm of a metronome. Rivers of traffic, roar of trucks,

Pale grasses yellow, wind-cured after months of rain. Waves lash the headland beneath gunmetal clouds. Sea birds flash white in sharp blades of sunlight; distant

Light breaks on the sea as men fish the ebb. Boats drift backward on the tide’s pull while I hunt darker water, baiting my hook

Drawn by a timeless signal, I’m caught in a tide of soul-deep gravity. I leave the stone church for the temple of origin— surrendering prayer