Before I could return to writing prose,

  verse took my pen by decree

 

Days fully structured and measured on end

  but tonight

    —words yearned to be free

 

The stories cerebral, their words bellicose

  new plots marching forward in time

 

With a story inscribed for others, not I,

  my true voice

      —wanting only to rhyme

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Prince without lineage

King without a throne

 

Master without servants

Lover of that unknown

 

Hearer of what’s unspoken

Seer of things divine

 

Lord among the jesters

Voice for all the mimes

 

Reason, when excuses falter

Questioner, when answers fail

 

Link between the seasons

 —first breath a baby wails

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

The one answer left to me

 is captured in verse

 

Old roadmap destroyed

 old play unrehearsed

 

The light becomes blocked

 as it shines from without

 

Its story an old one

 its warmth left in doubt

 

The road to this moment

 paved over in verse

 

Its bedrock a question

 an inner rebirth

 

My eyes closing tightly

 the last chant has begun

 

Past-future in ruins

 as within—I become

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2018)

Crossing over,

  I thought it’d be different

 

Crossing over,

  I thought things would change

 

Crossing over,

  I thought I’d be better

 

Crossing over,

  I fought through the rain

 

Now looking back,

  I see demurely

 

Now looking back,

  I see through the fog

 

Now looking back,

  I see more clearly

 

Now looking back

  —through life’s epilogue

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

My heart belongs to providence,

   as I walk that final mile

 

My footsteps bought and paid for,

  as I clear the last denial

 

My faith is bold and steadfast,

  as new rain begins to fall

 

Through the fog a horn is blowing

  the gate now open—Gabriel calls

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Is life about how many

  or then about how much

 

Is the truth in computation

  or in what those numbers touch

 

Is the measurement empiric

  with a final answer shown

 

Is salvation in the lyrics

  with the word count still unknown

 

Is there faith inside the mystery

  that mere reason can’t abide

 

Is there something deep inside you

  that excuses cannot hide

 

Is there a wind that blows indulgent

  carrying an echo from before

 

With a voice that speaks the loudest

  the one you listen to—reborn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Wrapping letters around

  the conflict

 

The war played out

  with words

 

The fury of shouted

  diction

 

Slaying enemies still

  unheard

 

Shooting vision

  into the onslaught

 

Attacking the silence

  as legion’s advance

 

Loading insight into

  the canons

 

Killing the emptiness

 —with a warrior’s chant

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Longer than forever

 much deeper than today

 

My heart to pass between

 —love’s final wish to pray

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2018)

I sold my soul

  for new meter and rhyme

 

Trading salvation

  for a thing greater still

 

The joyous embrace

  of one hell damning phrase

 

Now immortal, perpetual

  —fulfilled

 

I sold my soul

  as the Devil laughed

 

Knowing not, my final words

  were for him

 

Exposing his lie

  and his legions of hate

 

My last breath

  —Divinity’s hymn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Combining thought with emotion,

  the words came to life

 

The images eternal,

  as feelings ignite

 

The lines now in concert

  all stanzas to meet

 

My psyche impassioned,

  —my spirit complete

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)