C.F. Wilkins

Chained in mortal destiny,
Freedom... a vagabond wish,
A state of peace just any
Bound soul can't accomplish...
...

He, the sinless one,
In Gethsemane agonized.
His sweat was as blood drops,
Falling greatly in size.
...

Sometimes, after the laughter,
A season of discontent
Challenges the ray of hope
That is Heaven sent.
...

When a child is born into this world,
what kind of song will his or her life be?
A song of joy?
A song of hope?
...

Behold, if you will, a large battlefield
Where two warriors square off to fight.
One is clad in treacherous darkness,
The other in dazzling bright light.
...

My daughter has a Labrador;
He has a golden hue.
He is faithful in his duties,
Like a soldier tried and true.
...

Oh how frail is the memory
Of a forgetful old man,
Who looks for gems of joy
In the veins of his lifespan?
...

Sometimes silence contains treasures galore,
When the voice of wisdom can be heard much more
Than the rush of this life's rapid feet
And the thump of society's thundering heartbeat.
...

When by Eternal Goodness captured
And brought to final destination,
When soul and body have been raptured
And changed in holy restoration,
...

He worked a summer job.
This he did to help out.
The family needed more income.
That's what this was about.
...

Many walk on the sand
In the cold, black, dark night.
Hoping for the light of day
Which brings golden light.
...

Don't doubt, have faith when
Dark clouds hover in vain.
In vain because Christ will
Protect upon the ghastly main.
...

I'm the one you pass on the street
and pretend you do not see.
I'm the one you choose not to meet
while clutching your silent key.
...

Somewhere between dark and light
there's a mystical gray ocean
(somewhere between black and white...)
of suspended emotions.
...

The blissful new excitement
Of infant explorations
Show a world of life's wonders
With marvelous expectations.
...

I won't walk in self deception
Of being more than who I am.
Bear with me in clear reception
Of my honest self-exam.
...

In the quest for fulfillment,
We often tread on streaming beams
Of the lost visions of yesterday
And the hope of fading dreams.
...

Is greatness measured by the prize won
or the good character of the heart...
the sadness of the one scorned...
or the one who just plays the part?
...