Wanderlust
These city walls suppress my breath!
Within a world shaded with doom,
The living live a waking death,
Trapped within an airless tomb.
But my wild eyes refuse to see.
My mind resides on passing clouds.
I long to run from misery,
Far from the maddening crowds!
With the horizon I shall be,
On the trail of the fleeting day,
For the wanderlust is in me,
And nothing can make me stay!
~ Daniel F Mitchell
Dry Leaf
Oh, dry leaf, insignificant and transient,
Formed so, and abandoned so,
That your passing should have a fixed course,
That your rustling might linger for a time more,
That remembrance of your passing might linger,
This is the core want of my substance.
This is the dire need of my soul, oh, dry leaf.
~ Daniel F Mitchell
Shadows and Sand
We are only shadows and sand,
Blending into deepening shades of dusk.
We are fire in mystery’s hand,
Fragrance of bloom lost to decay’s stale musk.
We are vague promises broken,
Form and motion that time will soon rescind.
We are secrets vainly spoken,
Rumors on the dusty tongue of the wind.
~ Daniel F Mitchell
Swiftly Flowing
My life is just a dream
In universal flow,
And matter but a stream
That only time can slow.
The hours are swiftly flowing.
The time of youth has passed.
I don’t know where I am going,
But I’m going there fast.
~ Daniel F Mitchell
Embodiment of Perfection
Perfection, what is thy name?
Embodied as a decree!
Conceived above any blame
Is this picture of beauty
In form of snow-pure rabbit.
Gentle child of innocence,
Clothed in angel-knit habit,
Delicate creation, whence
Hath thy creator formed thee?
Art thou solely flesh and blood,
Union with divinity,
Or atonement for the flood?
What god hath made thee, that made
This wretched world’s upheaval?
Hath the artist now forbade
The painting of more evil?
Immaculate conception,
Remorse for all saintly lies,
The rosen hue of redemption
Is in thy forgiving eyes.
~ Daniel F Mitchell
Where I Am Sown
Blessed be the flower of hope –
That sprouts roots in any soil,
With all weather willing to cope,
To reap the reward of toil!
I will feast on any table.
I will grow what can be grown.
I will bud as I am able.
I will bloom where I am sown.
~ Daniel F Mitchell