Poems in the Field
By Filly

Unwinding the thread of life
Loneliness and hapiness all roll into one
Trying to hide away
I don't want to face it
Hoping it'll just go away
I have no stregth at all

Here I am, thrown back into reality
Aching and gasping for air
This is all that I can do
Believing that You're always there
Trusting everything unto You

Here I am, on my knees
As I call upon Your name
my heart begins to heal
I could feel Your hands on my shoulder
And tears rolling down on my cheek
Realizing He loves me so...
This is all that I can do
God, please help me to understand everything wisely

By Sonja Peterson and Martha Miranda © 1993

The tree of life
What can be said about the tree of life?
We know that it stands
Within the very paradise of God
And who is it for
For those who've gone before?
Or is it for you?
Is it for me?
In days of old the tree of life
Was taken back by God
It was guarded by a flaming sword
Guarded by the very word of God
But Father Shallum has brought the living tree
Back down again to men
The first seeds yielding forth
The bread of life within
The Tree of Life begotten by the LORD
Has been promised
To those who are looking for Him
And for His new Name
We know that the tree
She stands in the Holy City
The new Jerusalem that's coming down
Coming down, coming down from God
She stands in the Holy City
Giving forth Her daily bread
And hidden in Her branches
Within Her fruit is immortality
And Her leaves of the tree
Are for the healing of all nations
And there is no more curse in Her
The living tree is given to all men
The LAMB shall be there in the City
With His Holy FATHER
We shall serve Him
And we shall see Him face to face
What can compare to this holy healing stream
Of truth coming down that brings the victory?
All glory to the Living Tree
All glory to the Living Word
What profit is it
If we should gain the whole wide world
And lose our own soul
And then despise the Living Tree, the Living Word?
O Lord lift us up high into the Tree of Life
And wrap us up tight
Within Her holy branches
Her holy seeds to become

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Trixie's Forest

Goddess Trixie
Home -  Prophecy - Sexual
By John Keats

Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls!
I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light
From the celestial walls!

I felt her presence, by its spell of might,
Stoop o'er me from above;
The calm, majestic presence of the Night,
As of the one I love.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,
The manifold, soft chimes,
That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,
Like some old poet's rhymes.

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air
My spirit drank repose;
The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,--
From those deep cisterns flows.

O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear
What man has borne before!
Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care
And they complain no more.

Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer!
Descend with broad-winged flight,
The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair,
The best-beloved Night!

by George Gordon, Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!