The Conversion

What swear they now, who swore that God was dead,
And here, bewildered, gaze upon her face?
Their disbelief is vanquished, and instead
of doubt, they come to know God through her grace.
He set in her bright eyes a living flame
That all might feel his love within that light.
What force but his could draw such wide acclaim,
Or spread across the world such rare delight?
And now they race to penance, since they lied
When speaking of the joys of unbelief,
They curse their sins, and cast off all their pride,
And in God's love, her beauty, find relief.
What greater proof have we that God is real
Than this, her light, which dark cannot conceal?

Forever

You consistently give me these quiet,
simple, and wholly perfect gifts:
a touch of your hand
that sets fire in my flesh,
a whispered "I love you" that lavishes
thoughts of peace upon my mind,
a hushed glance from your blue eyes which
signals that my hope has been redeemed.

I'll walk with you always
because before I met you
my life was but a shade:
I wandered in the silence of
not-knowing-your laughter,
and all the world was black
without the forgiveness
I find in your smile.

We frequently speak of forever,
but it does not lie in the future.
It is around us, within us,
and its power grows with
every sweet embrace,
the sacred moments
when two hearts melt into one.

Sonnet for Athanasia

The living fire burns hot within her heart,
And melts the ice that drapes across my world.
I give her names like "joy that won't depart,"
"My hope of peace," "The might of God unfurled."
Her beauty is the theme the poet seeks
And yet, by fortune, is but mine to praise.
A strangely simple task for when she speaks
She moves me so, and sets my heart ablaze.
Her splendor is the sum of my esteems,
A bolt of lightning in my sky of gray,
A glimpse of truth within my life of dreams,
An hour of rest that spells my darkest day.
She resurrects the faith in me again,
And marks the true departure of my sin.