When might the whirling winds

When might the whirling winds
Wrap us in their weight
And whisk us away
Upon that glorious land

When might we be allowed
To wander the sands
Of those far away lands
Of the long white cloud

Twas but a decagon
When last had we
Looked upon
Thy glistening green
And cerulean waters

They welcomed us
Wander through
That sanctorium of
Splendor

Yea still of those days
Remember
In the early decembered
Summerset spell

And still may we tell
Of those tales of old
That perchance in their
Telling might beckon
Us back

Awe of once to be there
And back again
Should surely we stay
For no other land
Could steal us away

Save that of which
This be as counterfeit
For that land
Which lies beyond
The sea and sand

Tis far grander
Than the greatest
Isle that may warm
Our hearts awhile

Yet when their thrill
Doth in us chill
Thy warmth will
Have barely begun
Its work

For there within
Our hearts have longed
Of lands so luxurious
To gaze upon that
Most glorious

For the Lord of that land
Doth stretch out his hand
To all who would come
As humble and dumb

That day by day
The deadly hours
Might drift away
Into millennial measure
Where time is a treasure
Ne'er tarnished again

For the hour awaits
When we may
At last approach
Those glorious gates

Where our Lord and King
Doth welcome us in
For once were we
As enemies
Now by His grace
May look upon
His face
And live

For the price
He hath paid
With his own blood
Hath paved
The pathway
From perdition
To paradise

-Joshua Lee Foist


 

On days of which my heart hath pled

On days of which my heart hath pled
How long must I wait how long must I
Tread down this path
Of enchanted moments
Less fed by the unquenching
Dread that here lies all
That may be said

For where might we meet
Beyond the swirls of the crystalline
Pools where stand we
As plain fools
Might be

Of love long we
Yet see thee past
The woodland arbors
And willowing wastelands
These wisps of wind
Canst ere be a friend

For long have we tumbled
Midst the thorn and thistle
Tossed and troubled we
Lie open to all
Wandering folk

The joke oft seems
Upon us
Yet wonder still
Might dance
In the thrill
Of romance
Yet when

Twill beckon us in
Fore the worlds
Shall end
And newness
Begin

May still find
A friend
Though short
Are the sands
Sifting through
The glass

Alas
The hours
Remain
The flickering light
Dances dreadfully
Dimmer

Till the dawn
Be dusk
Yet still
The shadows
Shroud us in

The fogs
A fragrant
Bedfellow
To fill
This furrow
Of flesh

Till the rash
Turns to ash
And drifts away

Save the soul
Shall rise
When the rest
Meets its
Demise

Then rise
With eager
Expectant eyes
To thy glory
That awaits

For whether
In earth
May find
Forever
A friend
Shall be
In the ages
Of eternity

-Joshua Lee Foist