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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


Theater of Shadow and Light

In darkness
I knew I could reach
the light
if I could be
the night: that empty,
that immaculately quiet.

A crisp and sunken moon
knows how it's done—
she quivers in the
touch of pines and
floats on star love and
one slow-turning
frame of eternity,

and so safe,
like an angel, from
this angry little world
I sacrificed another one
of my lives to . . .

until I remembered,
I never age,
I just begin again,
and there's always one
more beginning. Just ask
the mumbling ghosts
on the river,
casting silk,
reshaping moons,
doing what creators

so I might
as well try on
something impossible,
remembering how I once
believed existence
in this world was a
tragic carnival—
ghoulish laughter,
circles of loss,
an ingenious trap—

till I began again.

Some say Rumi's teacher
died for the privilege
of loving him—
oh, to love so much
that losing yourself
is gaining it all . . .

I could fly apart
in this freedom,
in this shell
of dark purity,

showered by messengers
of light, I allowed,
at last,
through the floor
of Heaven.

Die again,
they say,
die once more,
and be born.

Patricia Joan Jones

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

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