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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

Nucleus

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

Gossip

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

Archibald

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

THE WOLD LIKE THIS!

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

 

Sky Full of Legends



Another day shuts behind a
sheet of red madnessó
this babbling sorrowó
but the real living is in
the flowering night,
the revolving temple,

vastness within vastness . . .

my other self on the other side
and the dark that lights the flame,
I am convinced,
we always were, though we
pretend to be blind
in this game of forgetting.
The only rules:
believe we are separate,
believe we are alone.

The owl cries for me, lover
of its billowing proverbs
and drops of eternity in
the wilderness of
deep living,

and I'm sure I heard:
Yes, this too is God
calling and loving,
Don't you remember?

Newly-minted stars spill out
of a well of legends
and lift me
to their place of
rememberingó
I am tall as my fears
and microscopic as my fears
and something not quite
inside me swells
to a punishing joy:
too immaculate to stay,
too wild to be believed.

Don't you remember?

So how did infinity manage
to crawl inside my
one safe moment and become
so like a god,
so like all that lives

where the Truth
and the legends
are one?

Patricia Joan Jones






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