A Sixth Door Opens

Sometimes after a day

of hearing the dissonant voice of the world,

beneath the stars I watch the moon

silver the ebon shade till all is silence;

then I step lightly into my many chambered mind

and close its five doors.

Noiseless, a sixth door opens--

a door forgotten when the five are wide.

To the patterned rhythm of the spheres

I drift back aeons to a time-forgotten kingdom

and enter, not as a stranger:

Old friends embrace me and I speak with the Gods I knew

before I breathed the Lethean vapors of birth.

Again I see the PLAN:

the beginning ... the now ... the ending.

(I sang for joy in the beginning.)

Tuned to the mysteries I hear strange music:

the strains in thunder chords and lightning flares;

in winds and quakings of the earth;

in the steel-winged sky ... in death ... and know

that the dissonance of war and tears

will blend into eternal melody.

Slowly I return.

The five doors open ...

To Fulfill a Dream

We who have heard the singing of the stars,

The symphony from lilting robin-throats,

The laughter of the hills devoid of scars,

Now hear the laugh of avarice that gloats.

The atavistic mirth that chills the soul

From mouths of grasping men with claws uncurled

To still the pulse of love--make earth unwhole,

Drowns out the Master's lyric in the world.

Yet as we listen to the ruthless tongues

We see ethereal candles brightly gleam,

And strive to climb the higher on the rungs

Reaching to Heaven to fulfill a dream.

We toil to heal the gaping greed-made scars--

We who have heard the singing of the stars.

The Hour I Touched a Dream

Opalescent-white moon-javelins were flashing,
Stars danced to the lake and silently were splashing--
Silently they bathe in memory's silver stream.

Pipes of Pan re-echoed by moon-rippled water,
Beauty's voice was calling, "Sing for me, my daughter"--
Ever I recall the hour I touched a dream.

Returned Korean Chaplin Speaks

In youth I stood tiptoe upon a dream
And reached to touch the brightest crystal star;
Then years away I still could see its gleam,
A silver shaft to rift the clouds of war.
The black-cowled horesmen bringing tragic death
Could not dispel its glow. With inner sight,
I eased a wounded comrade's tortured breath--
My Star became a benison of LIGHT.
Where birds of steel were screaming, wings outspread,
And swords were stained with crimson to the hilt,
I heard a Heavenly chorus, angel-led
And mustered out a soul his dream rebuilt.
O eager youth, stand tall upon your dreams
That you may build them by the Starlight's gleams.

Where Dreams May Grow

Love keeps
A place apart
Where little dreams may grow--
A memory garden with a gate
Of tears.