Have I?
Have I done it?
Have I done it all?
There was the copter
Flying over green fields
In the warm, quiet breeze.
Visually, sensually fulfilling my dreams.
Watching the cows and goats
Meandering about their grazing grasses,
Placid lakes replenished by crystal streams.
Travels through ancient French Villages
Speaking broken Lanqueduc
To The artisans and shopkeepers
Drinking liquid fermented grape fragrance,
Breads garnished with Camembert.
Perusing fields of violets
Basking before an emptied monastery
Wooden pens taking shape on an old Lathe
Turns, curves, tenons,
Develop beneath the iron lathe tool
Polished to satin sheen
Sanded and waxed with certainty
To its final becoming form,
To hold, caress, scribble
Memorable, persistent sonnets
To that special, only loved one.
The year of Fencing
Fast and artful footing
Brandishing the slender silver sword
Deftly, adroitly, for that final flourish
Landing at its devilish destination,
Marking the ultimate winning stroke.
Daily read His holy Scriptures
Written for me for contemplation
Marked with heavenly meditation
In constant expectation
Of eternal life in His midst
Living in that glorious room
Built for me in His Wondrous kingdom.
I await Your calling
To Eternity.
Jon jacobs. 2015
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