by Liam

Beneath the quiet breath of morning’s rise,

It’s not the world that shapes me—

I am the quiet architect of each hour,

Weaving time’s tender threads:

The who, the why, the where, the unfolding how.

Who else can hold the sun within their chest?

A heart so fierce it breaks through sorrow’s weight,

Not simply to mend, but to bloom and grow anew.

For like a ripple stirred by a single drop,

Light, too, spreads in waves, dissolving night,

Again and again, the dawn is ours to claim.

With it comes the call to rise, to heal,

To change the course, and set things right.

So let us stand in the light we bear,

And shape the world with hands of care.

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by Liam

The dignity of this sorrow lies between

Your sadness and my distress.

We had those struggles,

Interludes of passion too,

Before you went your way,

Hair wavering, eyes blistered with tears.

Anger tore up the flower garden in my heart,

Leaving sorrow, or was it sadness,

Clinging letter by letter to those few resilient weeds.

We tried again and again, but our holy ground was wasted.

Sorrow’s resignation is no place to plant love,

Sadness no place to accept happiness.

Captured in distress,

Caught in the quietude,

My reflection shattered.

My soul, which mattered,

Reached out into the still pool,

Where I found this

Pearl.

September 2019

by Liam 

This morning’s rise, my calm begins,

A silent flame ignites within.

No tempest wild, nor shadow’s glare,

Can shake the power anchored there.

My stride is firm, each thought defined,

With patience sharp and purpose aligned.

I face the climb, through storm and steep,

For mountains yield to those who keep.

The blaze of effort never fades,

It cuts through your doubt, through dusk and haze.

By hand and heart, my path I pave,

Each step a mark, each leap brave.

No shiny prize nor fleeting grace,

Can match my strength I’ve come to embrace.

For forged in sweat my vision wide,

Rise I, unbroken, fortified.

When the night seems long and cold,

Walk with courage, sure and bold.

Not seeking ease or fleeting fame,

My lightening lites these skies with flames.

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by Liam

Oh! Life, short as a half-taken breath,  

I heave my chest, a fleeting sigh,  

Like the gust that bends the barley’s head,  

Then quietly, leaves the fields shy.

Plant but love in the fertile earth,  

For soil knows the wisdom of words,

Each a promise, each a vow, is a tender birth—  

Roots grow deep where silence confers.

A spade cuts, into the loamy dark,  

Rich soil which cradles the words we sow;  

In the garden of gratitude leave your mark,  

With each tender letter, let love grow.

For cold handed time, though swift, can’t erase.

Nor linger like dust on a summer’s face

The blossoms of  love well-cared or well-said;

Soft and eternal, though the day has fled.

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by Liam

In the ebb and flow of time’s embrace,

What comes will go, what lingers fades,

What we hold dear, a fleeting phase,

Slip in time’s ever-shifting craze.

Yet in the depths of stillness quiet,

Lies your truth, pure and unbound.

What you believe though cannot be found,

Beyond the dance of day and night.

Beyond the veil of time’s domain,

No words can capture, none explain,

A presence vast, serene and free,

Unchanging space, for eternity.

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by Liam

In relms where shadow casts it’s gentle veil,

A trinity within my breast does dwell,

A child, a youth, an adult, all assail

My weary soul with dreams they each compel.

The child, with evening eyes across wide skies,

Seeks haven in the folds of tender care,

Her heart, a fragile vessel, softly cries,

For safety’s hand to brush away despair.

The youth, the fire ignited in his veins,

Burns fierce for justice, writhes against the night,

His spirit rages, bound by unseen chains,

A tempest yearning for the dawn of right.

The adult, worn by countless wars within,

Craves peace amidst the sea of senseless strife,

A balm to soothe the scars of might-have-been,

And calm to cloak the tumult of his life.

O trinity, thy discord, yet divine,

Unfolds the path to healing’s tender grace,

In gentle whispers, let thy fates align,

To weave a harmony within this sacred space.

Be gentle, heart, amidst this inner fight,

For in thy struggle lies dawn’s first waking light.

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Poem: Smoke

By Liam

These words are but smoke,

which rise from the soul.

The heat, the vitality,

lies unseen in the thing.

We take it, we turn it, we burn it,

Now we feel it, the energy.

Yet we were mesmerized,

at first by its ethereal form.

Be not blinded by the haze or its glaze.

These are, like the words, insubstantial whisps,

But feel your own flame,

Burning forth with Love.

We discover the fire of truth, this never tires.

It’s in Love’s glow, we write our hearts’ desires.

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by Liam

As this fair day doth softly fade to night,

The sun’s warm beams now gently cease to light.

It’s twilight hues across heavens’ canvas spread,

With azure melting softly into rosy red.

The golden luster wanes, yet still it stays,

A reminding tender echo of the sunlit days.

This fleeting bliss, across my momentary grace,

In love’s embrace, I find thy star filled gorgeous face.

Thou art an angel, dancing high and free,

Thy form, a vision in the twilight sea.

Amongst the clouds, thou flittest ‘cross mine eye,

Thy visage graces all the boundless sky.

Thy horizon, with me now, doth proclaim,

And stars, like jewels, adorn the night on high.

With sparks and dreams, with glimmers bright and clear,

Our souls entwine, in this one rapture’s sphere.

As I now close mine eyes to slumber deep,

The wonder of this night in heart I’ll keep.

Till dawn’s first light doth chase the dark away,

And with thee, love, I’ll greet our new-born day.

Together then, the morning song we’ll raise,

In harmony, through all our waking days.