Will George Poet Post Script to the Vigil

POST SCRIPT TO THE VIGIL

Shall I paint a picture in a few words,

Or create a piece of the puzzle,

And as a jigsaw, show a part of the whole?

Perhaps, as the artist, I shall set layer

Upon layer of pigment to fill the canvas,

And by each brush-stroke be complete!

Why would a picture, or a painting, not be worth

A thousand words when ten thousand movements,

And more, are captured to present a final display?

The Artist may touch up and edit what he captures

And releases in vivid imagery, but cannot compare

To the Orator whose words once released are set to fly free!

As the arrow to its target sails and true to form

Embeds its barbs and for intent accomplishes

All it needs, it cannot be so easily relieved.

Music plucks at the strings of the soul,

By cadence and lilt each vibration

Hones its impulse and gains response.

The picture to the heart appeals and reflects,

As a mirror, that inner sense of action

And event to which we all ascribe.

And words, in beauty, or in desolation, to the mind

Extend their appeal, or consent, go heard,

Or not, by the reception of their purpose and understanding.

So let me set the time and place, and where opportune

Set down in colour and form, and with such noise,

Those thoughts which may be delivered upon this wind!

My eyes reveal the darkness of the night,

But it is within the boundary of free spirit

That my soul shall reach out to your light.

Your touch of gentle expression, of such kind word,

Will be a caress to lift up such idle form,

To be a balm and to raise up deep pools now stirred.

What promise shall I bring to swell the tide,

Where sands upon the ocean shore are brushed

And where salted seas their presence do not hide.

How kind the thought expressed, and by fairness

Found not wanting of a beacon shining forth,

To set aflame the quiet heart within this lamp in happiness.

We look beyond the present to the past,

To recollect each memory of events

Of significance and importance which will last.

Your presence, a ray, a beam of golden sun,

From eyes open and aware, full of care and concern,

For the comfort and welfare of each and everyone.

A smile would accompany a gracious thought,

Expressed to bring response and share a view

So spectacular and panoramic in the periphery of vision caught.

There has been friendship, a bond which ties,

With a sharing of many joys, brief encounters

In company, as host or guest, where on occasion we may cry.

Tears flow in ample stream, in sadness or at extreme,

With gladness for a thankful thing, which often

We would let pass by in a most fulfilling thought or dream.

There are no havens in which to rest,

To cast anchor or to stem the flow, or ebb,

That would waterlog a craft so frail beneath its crest.

Breezes blow and sweep the treetops reaching out, high

Above the forest canopy, as multi-coloured birds seek

The freedom of the sky and call to all, a whistling cry.

Songs express the extent of motion felt and words

Returned to communicate the depth of sadness,

Or height of joy, with which we may all be heard.

There are no hours that will pass quietly wherein your presence

Is not felt, and for every waking moment a space

Filled within the heart shall be a centre of your essence.

Family, friend, companion and confidante, one to share

Burdens and rewards, the daily gift, challenge or elevation

Gained by one's own participation in the flow of life we bear.

I face the future and hold the past as treasure

That will be enjoyed and will enrich the tender moments,

And with good company will celebrate in equal measure.

Joy; sadness may not replace, but a happy companion may be,

Will walk and find comfort in pleasant things, as best

As each event may offer and proceed in quiet harmony.

Life, the torrent of a rushing stream, cascading down

From mountain high, bubbling and effervescent gleams

To pause in silent swirling eddy to briefly frown.

Rain carries before its swathe on bounding course the calm

And stagnant pool towards the cataract, and falls to swell

Once more the liquid stream of energy that will be its own balm.

This watery lifeblood its richness shares,

And by its passing gives a growth to varied

Plant that will soon bloom and in its growth prepare.

The valleys are the richer for the contribution made,

Where each step of the journey the river feeds

The thirst of every meadow and every glade.

We remember then the goodness given, encompassed by your embrace,

The warmth of a caring touch, the tenderness of love, and we will

Upon this highway travel until we reach your resting place.