Seeds

Each question is a seed
planted in the garden
of our heart's own longing,
and we the soil that bears it up,
we, the seasons that sustain,
deliberate seasons, seasons of chance
the dry seasons and seasons of rain.
O, seasons of hope, seasons of joy
of love, of death, and remembrance:
Each brings its own nourishment
drawing out the tender shoot,
sending it upward toward the Sun,
pushing the answer to the surface
forcing the fruit to ripen in us.

© 6.30.2016 Paul Wittenberger

Unknowing and Unknown

So vast a space between us,
do our shadows even touch?
And with that simple question
am I asking far too much?
Bound together, You and I,
unknowing and unknown,
companions in our common life,
and lovers ... yet alone.
I am here, You are there,
so love becomes a thoroughfare,
an avenue of rich delight
transporting us through endless night.
With hearts unfurled against the stars
you sing to me of secret things
that heal the soul of all its scars
and raise our thoughts as if on wings.
And as we sail a moonlit sky
past the eagles soaring by
you take me deep, you take me high ...
I cannot sleep nor can I cry,
yet I am not afraid to fly ...
No, I am not afraid to fly.

© 6.29.2016 Paul Wittenberger