Would You?

From the day of your arrival on to this earth,

people have cherished you.

Upon your death, would you want the same?

What would you want them to do?

Would you want the good that you have done,

to be fondly recollected?

Would you want your accomplishments accurately chronicled,

emphasizing the many you’ve affected?

It is hard to determine how this will go,

since you will no longer be here.

The wheel that you once sat behind,

now beyond your control to steer.

As you sit in the wings and watch this play out,

if you could, would you change a thing?

Would you be pleased with the bittersweet songs,

that mournful voices sing?

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

Blind Faith Sees…

Unknown roads are hard to follow,

no guarantee they will lead to tomorrow.

New experiences and adventures, waiting to be discovered,

are often blocked and thoroughly covered.

By paths so murky, can’t see where I’m going.

The roads are unpredictable, anxiety free-flowing.

But my steps are ordered, so I’ve been told,

according to the scripture of testament old.

But if I pay close attention, I don’t need to see.

My faith in God is what guides me.

As I make my way to life’s next intersection,

God is right there with me, in my mind’s reflection.

There to guide me should I stumble and fall.

He has heard my cry, even before I call.

Faith propels me to get up and try again.

To follow the roads as they twist and bend.

My faith has grown every step of the way.

A guiding light for each new day.

Penetrating the darkness that eclipses my view,

making way for the traveling I have yet to do.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

Men Cry From the Soul…

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In the moonless darkness of the soul, the men cry,

without a clue or an inkling why.

Voiceless are they, in the darkness of night,

longing for slumber, that is nowhere in sight.

What to do? This is not how men behave,

grappling and reaching for the rest that they crave.

Quickly swept away by their own waterfalls,

self-made currents that stifle their calls.

Hollow are the souls that harbor these men,

tear-stained trails mark where they have been.

If the moon does appear, will it shed some light?

For a vision renewed, restoration of sight.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

 

Images:  Free Google Images

Quantam…

Consciousness consists of frequencies of quantum energy,

hidden to the naked eye, yet bouncing off every tangible surface.

Obscure in all of its power, stored up, pent up, built up.

Yearning to be freed from the invisible restraints that hold it hostage.

On the verge of breaking through to the thin, protective layers,

that separate its intangible existence, from its illusive reality.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

Pieces of Me…

I never knew how important you were,

until I had to say goodbye.

Even though some time has passed since then,

I can’t stop wondering why.

To suffer the loss of such vital parts,

that I never thought I would.

I’ve learned to take one day at a time,

by embracing the bad and the good.

The hazy self-image in my mirrored reflection,

is a reminder to me every day.

I certainly would not be the person I now am,

had things not worked out this way.

I had to lose these pieces of me,

to find my true self worth.

I’m a better person, in spite of the loss.

I have found my purpose on earth.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

To Whom Much is Given…

To whom much is given, much is required.

God supplies all of our needs, our deepest desires.

Through the roughest terrain,

the hottest of fires,

God always brings us through,

revealing the devil as a liar.

Every time we praise and give thanks to our Lord,

we rebuke the devil, the power of one accord.

So instead of wondering, why me?

Maybe the question should be why not?

Especially, when so much is required,

and we’ve indeed been given a lot!

By Sylvia Porter-Hall