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IRISH POETS' NOTEBOOKS
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Cormac Daly
This Spirit Lives.
Where shall I go to seek, or hide
from the spirit I have lost,
With whom shall I speak and confide
and at what moral cost.
Where shall I go to cheat my ruin
after burying this beautiful vision I kept,
Perhaps in the solitude of a barren moon
where the cold conscience lies unswept.
Where shall I go to peacefully mourn
this dazzling dream I have seen,
And how will it be held, or borne
all the troubled darkness in-between.
Where shall I go to ponder this demise
and render my soul to the unseen yet,
Probably,
In the cold of the morning sunrise
and the warmth of the evening sunset.
Sanctum
Spiritual chariots are ablaze with resolve,
secular morality deepens, impatient to evolve.
Clouds of reason are gathering, ready to roll,
a new light appears, illuminating a void of the soul.
The vision lived is the vision realized,
a message rejected can be a herald despised.
Instinctively an open heart takes time to reflect,
on its chosen beliefs, compelled to select.
Inner peace enlightens a heaven on earth,
our pain the sword of life, death and rebirth.
Compassion the only union, brotherhood of being,
reverence of love, definitive in the spirits freeing.
The wings of our psyche beat in a universal flight,
and the cognitive, receptive to a second sight.
Before losing you to the idea of perfection,
my shattered ego has little choice but selection.
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(Untitled)
We will embrace the latitude
of our arcane treasures,
So we can discover the longitude
of joy in simple pleasures.
We will define the scope
of our mystic dreams,
So we can endow hope
upon the source of our streams.
We will live to capture
our harmony in the now,
So we can relish the rapture
a moment together will allow.
We will begin to travel
to the zenith of truth,
So we can slowly unravel
the answers to our youth.
We will finally reach
symmetry in our deference,
So we can safely teach
Benevolence as a preference.
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Dear Sir,
In God we trust
Freedom may win
or freedom may lose,
To dance in step with sin
is that the path we choose?
Liberty may reign
or liberty may die,
In revenge who will gain?
Must another orphan cry?
Justice may release
or justice may control,
We tip the scales of peace
and pass judgment on the soul.
The truth may heal
or the truth may cut,
The secrets You conceal
destroy the present, but….
……War?
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The Last Christmas
You search for me at night
your beating drum in my hand,
Souls of the eternal spotlight
proclaiming across the land.
Again it will start in the womb
Of earth and placed in a manger,
Rising from the ashes and tomb
Jesus no longer an absent stranger.
We were on a sandy beach
a silver unicorn by our side,
The circle of life within our reach
a child’s laughter lapping on the tide.
The light guiding us is from above
no definitive truth or lasting lie,
Our revolution only in simplistic love
Our evolution will bring tears to the eye.
© 2001 by Cormac Daly
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