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Behind Walls of Data

In the Last Green Hours

Crucible of Light

Dogs (A micropoem)

The Angels of Hawksbill Mountain

Beyond the Gates of Orion

Sanctuary Within

The Sacred Opulence of Abundant Joy

Sitting With Stars

Light of the Tempest


Follow the Birdsong

Celestial Rite

One More Moon Beside Me

Legacy of Ash

Born in a Field of Light

Resurrection in Albemarle County

Dialogue With Silence

Moving Past the Dream

Deadly and Merciful Blue

Sky Full of Legends

On the Border of Earth and Being

Who You Really Are

Council of Stars

Scattered As One

Unfinished Bridge To the Infinite

Scenes from Within

Moon of Secrets

Memories of the Kingdom

In the Church of Ordinary Miracles

Finding Religion in Sperryville

Theater of Shadow and Light

Sapphire Birth

Web of Infinity

Voices from a Choir of Stars

Traveler in the Unseen

Into the Silence

A Soft Ascent

Through a Sacred Forest

Innocent Questions

On the Bridge After a Storm

The Sound of Creation

Your Song in the Ivy

Universe Within

New Empire

Another Afterlife

Where the Wind Lives

Another Kind of Prayer

Indigo Fire

Last Inch of Flame

Blue Home

Sacred Crone

What the Deer Understands

Some Water Lilies I Used to Know

Gates of Orion

Requiem for Yesterday

In a Moment of Understanding

April Snow

Symphony in Sable

Justice Denied


Graduation Day

Fire from a Distant Life

Frozen Retreat

Welcome Jack

Remembering Spring

A River's Chant

Shadows of December

Please Live

Unholy Love

A Silent Knowing

Morning Candle

A Multitude of One

Love is Now

Follow the Birdsong 2


Night of the Broken Glass, Revisited

Someone Else's Paradise

Canvas of Gold (A Tribute to Poetry Sites)

On the Edge of a Dead World

A Very Late Apology

It Is You

When Two Hearts beat as One


His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us


Voices from a Choir of Stars

They sounded like living rain.
They danced like crystals of a
broken moon upon the lake,
and fluttered soft
as the thread
of wind
coiled in my hair.

They were pious as priests,
raucous as gypsies,

and with words from
another world,
their lyrics scattered me
to recreate me
and they said:

You don't need to weep with remorse.
You don't need to say anything special
to be heard.
You just have to want it,
to be in it,
to allow it to love the
wandering proverb that you are . . .

So now I travel,
light year
after light year,
condensed in
my holy now,

through a tumble of new questions,
through a foam of knowing,
through a blizzard of their
sputtering, blinding

Is there truly no end?
And where are we going?

And I'm sure I heard:
You know you've arrived
when Forever is here,
when the music of
the spheres
is your brazen heart

and there is no space
between you
and God's voice
in a choir of stars.

Patricia Joan Jones

2000 - 2002 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors

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