Friday, March 15, 2013

Houses of the Holy

The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton

If we walked out of the door tonight,
our hands woven together in a single thought,
we would not look back or be tempted to return.

There is nothing we would miss,
no regrets or remorse to haunt our nights.

Strolling boldly into the light of day,
we would have it all, a solemn and joyful peace
kept within that small space between us.

Everything is suddenly new,
our laughter fresh and tears forgotten.

Birds follow our journey,
filling the air with songs of innocence.
Flowers rise on the path before us, 
guiding our direction with fragrance.

Take my hand, Belov├ęd,
and watch the world fall away
into the nothingness it has always been.

The betrayal of our eyes is gone now, into gray distance;
our vision evolved into clarity and substance.