As I gaze deeply into thy shy, beauteous eyes,
those cauldrons where spirit doth metamorphosize, 
I see, shimmering, spirit’s and love’s transcendent face,
so happily awake in thee, their chosen beautiful place!

                                        I.
How can one faint from long trek through the desert’s hell,
tell the maiden how sweet’s the drink she gave from her well?
How can one convey how much more than water possessed,
Esmerelda’s gentle hand, to Quasimodo’s pilloried breast?

Words too inadequate are, meaning to convey or impart,
where experience hath not understanding given within the heart,
unless the Lord giveth understanding which coulds’t not otherwise be,
for purposes shrouded in His Mystery.

Even Judah Ben-Hur, condemned and on way to galley-ship,
coulds’t not understand what meant the water offered to sip
by the passing, quiet Galileean stranger’s hand,
so ‘oft it’s not given e’en to those directly affected, to understand!

Such simple things are held of low esteem today, save in poetry,
by a world which values most, gold and the arts of casuistry.
Wells of human love and kindness are everywhere scarce as in Galilee,
and have e’er been so, throughout human history,

yet such tender, unnoticed expressions of a loving soul
mean more to God than this world’s material whole!
How inestimably beautiful are Roses of Humanity, like thee, and Ruth,
who simply and tenderly live the Golden Rule, and Love’s truth!


                                       II.

Alas, only one who’s been inside Quasimodo’s breast,
or been, like Judah Ben-Hur, put to test,
can know how much can mean simple loving kindness
in the face of this dark world’s scornful blindness!

Thou cans’t not know, thou innocent soul of gentility,
how much darkness there is, or how evil’s become humanity,
so cans’t not know how truly rare and beautiful
such Roses of Humanity be, or how fruitful.

Thou cans’t not know the bitter cup I drink,
or how low my weary heart doth betimes sink--
or that I understand Quasimodo’s plight,
and Sydney Carton’s desire for flight,

even Judah Ben-Hur’s bitter agony,
and Cyrano de Bergerac’s lonely futility;
Nonetheless, unto me thou hast given Esmerelda’s loving hand,
and tenderest smile, to understand.

Thou hast me refreshed, by thine unknowing, tender ministry,
thou beauteous and fragrant Rose of Humanity!
In all the years of my wilderness, thou hast the only soul been,
who’s heart’s loved me, without other reason, as befits the Father’s kin!

Behold!  I have seen the elusive Rose of Humanity, which’s seen only unawares,
and’s never found on the stage of human affairs.
Men who dwell in darkness, will ne’er it discern,
nor will their spirits e’er for it yearn!

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder; and for thy sake, in my stead,
I’d rather an angel have been, who’d thee tested
as thou entertaineds’t so unawares, that thou’d be Blessed
by the Father unto Whom all such things are confessed!

But alas, I no angel, or e’en a Cyrano de Bergerac, be,
so all I can do is write what my tongue’s too dull to say, in poor poetry,
in verses thou dost inspire, and cause me to dare,
thou Rose of Humanity, to whom dull Roxane coulds’t not compare!

Thou hast seen the verses man’s heart doth write,
and the verses which reflect spirit’s greater insight--
I pray thee, take both as the great compliment
meant to thy heart and soul’s glorious raiment!

Gracious Lady, of Spirit’s tender gentility, 
I pray the Lord God of Hosts bless thee for eternity,
for I, who testify ‘gainst this world, can no more than pray He thee bless,
and to Him, thy tender, loving soul recommend and confess.

Days come, e’en darker days for me,
thou cans’t not know or see,
but know that I take with me, memory of thy tender embrace
to comfort me, when’s time my destiny to face!

             I.
Comes Spring’s warming embrace,
the sleeping rose doth awake
and set to make up it’s face,
to join the Parade Nature doth make.

First the bud doth appear
in company of Spring’s other youth,
then ripens into the floret, so dear,
to join th’other adolescents in search of truth!

Then the fulfillment which doth loom,
gracefully, majestically unfolds
in heavenly scented, wonderous bloom,
more precious than all man’s gold!

Pales all of man’s splendors,
when blushes the rose--
Solomon in all his glory was arrayed in cinders,
compared to the blushing rose, God chose!

                   II.

Nature’s flowerings of life,
God hath arrayed wonderously,
with profusion of beauty rife--
variations of divine art, executed splendorously!

But the Maker’s art
is more wonderous still,
and He doth greater glories impart,
and more dimensions to Life instill.

The blooms that we may see
cannot compare
with the blooms which more ethereal be,
of heart, and spirit, so rare.

Blooms of physical beauty alone
are single-dimensioned, and like unto mono-chromatic drudgery,
compared to the full-spectrumed tone
of flowers God’s given unique multi-dimensionality.

The blooms of spirit, o’er flesh have primacy,
but when they’re added to blossom of physical beauty,
then truly blushes a bloom of heavenly ecstasy,
a rare gift to earth from Divinity,

a flowering of Life itself in disclose,
all dimensions of which are bloomed
in mysterious harmony--a rose
which is the Rose of divinity, on earth bloomed.

And Spirit, to Life brings seasons of it’s own,
in fulfillment of it’s mysteries sublime,
which to the plant are unknown,
to confound Nature’s seasons and inexorable time,

as anachronous Spring’s embrace
e’en in winter’s felt,
and vision dimmed again sees Love’s face,
as Cupid’s arrows are dealt!

On earth, God made woman to be
man’s companion and love,
and to bloom as the Rose of humanity,
bringing to earth, love from above!

                      III.

Lo, now do the roses bloom,
planted by God in diverse clime and place--
the metamorphosis of earthly gloom
into heavenly Love’s shining face!

Is come, Love’s warming embrace,
and my sleeping heart doth awake
and set to itself abase
before the Rose of roses God doth make!

Now is Spring resurrected in winter’s heart,
to melt away the long accumulated glacial ice
and make begrudging darkness depart
before God’s omnipotent caprice

that Love should reign supreme,
e’en on the wintery Stygian shore,
that Love shoulds’t Life redeem,
and continue on past the shore, forevermore!

Quiet luxuriates in the new-morn dawn,
as the hush of wonderment stretches before coming day;
Sighing breezes sip from earth’s dew-bejewelled lawn,
and all of creation senses, something wonderful comes this way,
something which expresses it’s highest worthiness of adore!

Lunar tides stir the sea to nuzzle the shore awake,
while the prodigal sun’s return but awaits it’s cue;
Dreams are stirred, their inferior hold to forsake,
and morning stars and pale moon, like theater lights, dim anew,
as creation and I await the smile of your awakening beauty’s encore!

Clouds spiral in the air,
like ringlets in your hair--
I see your face everywhere!

Fortunate amongst men, the man to hear
the tender evening breeze and moonlight whisper of you,
whisper so many secrets of your endear,
only the heavenly before knew!

                  Flowers

Of all the flowers God hath made,
woman stands above all the rest,
for her flowering doth not with seasons' change, fade--
anachronous Spring lies e'er within her breast!


                         You

Deep within thine eyes, I see
life, love, and gentility--
warm and tender truth,
afloat on gossamer wings of youth!