Love is an ember that climbs into hearts
Illuminated cavern where passages start
Staircases winding to candlelit treasures
Yielding no dead ends in all its measures
Golden tones rising in ceaseless longings
Candelabrum ignited for soul belongings
Standing in pairs under cascading words
Climbing above understanding, like birds
There is no division where love will stand
Love is an ember that joins God into man

©Kathy Paysen 2010

Dedicated to my Dad, James William Wilson

White silk against the night
Wading in pools of dreams
Amber tree lanterns flicker
Peaceful reflections stream
Warm rains of forest light
Diffused in nature’s glow
Trickling enchanted water
Green branches that flow
Fragrance stirs in breezes
Embracing the calm wind
Awakening from cocoons
Evening butterflies ascend
Wings with golden beams
Against earth’s pillow fall
Angel feathers softly drift
When heaven gently calls,
“Come home sweet one.”

Kathy Paysen 2010

Colors fall in globs of rain
Streaking gently down window panes
Dripping hues of autumn leaves
Curling into October’s breeze
Melting sunbursts of earthen fire
Dropping messages that inspire
Human nature blossoming to fade
Tears from eyes of every shade
Streaming rivers of falling time
Cascading colors of mankind
Whirls of dawns and sets of sun
We are what our Father begun
Children of the rain

©Kathy Paysen 2010

As planets orbit, moons rise and suns set, humanity is eclipsed by their vanities. Cryptic messengers of an earth are bound by the rattles of Satan to distract a world into oblivion. In the vapors of mankind’s descent, angels of Michael will ascend. Swords of stars and globes of visions will heal the derisions and divisions of time. Under the breastplate of Michael’s warriors is a heart for God that leaps to answer the will of heaven. A kingdom without end is the banner of the just and the righteous standing at the right hand of eternity. The serpents of Hell rise to fall at the hands of a mankind willing to revel in God’s mercy. Hate will recoil as love leads souls into the abyss of war to defend the actions of mercy.

Once upon a time, beyond the moons and stars, direction was the center of what beginnings are. In an everlasting circle of water, sun, and being, a universe evolved truly worth seeing. Dazzling in her light, beyond her rivers and her oceans, Earth stood apart to bring evidence of our God’s emotions. Symphonies of dawn, of rain, of winter, of fall, on the palette of creation’s voice we can recognize them all. The patter of footsteps reverberates on the trails of all mankind, making our impressions of a God’s infinite design. Colors and chasms, of sanctity, of strife, illuminate each day that harvests into life. Golden letters of reason, of providence, of sorrows, grow from nothingness into all our tomorrows.

Hanging by a thread
Unemployed spider women
Can't get their legs up

A sticky situation, unemployed women with children.

©Kathy Paysen 2010

Trunks carrying trunks
Parading with little ones
Divorced elephants

A thick skinned society bears no responsibility for our future.

©Kathy Paysen 2010

The scent of ancestry stretches across cobblestoned roads. Moss sticks like time to the worn passages coveting the feet of yesterday. Wooden pages torn from history guard the countryside with their blistered faces hinged to archways. Brick by brick, layer by layer, the aged buildings with rusted locks and looming spirits invite visitors to unlock the mysteries hidden behind them. War ravaged monuments with swollen earth foundations rise up and answer their doors for tourists to snap photographs within. Spirit upon spirit gathers and ascends behind the lush green hillside of man’s hours to travel through lit gardens that lead to the village cemetery. Angels and flowers rest at the head of these etched milestones.

Against the winds of ash and grey, homeless cyclers peddle their wares through another day. Far from the disdain of other’s thoughts, they carry their homes through empty lots. Tired vagabonds on spokes of time move surreptitiously through intersections blind. Momentous memories of loving lost; they toil and tarry at any cost. Subjects of loss and timeless leisure become rolling refugees of search and seizure. Somebody’s daughter, somebody’s son, has lost their way, a hit and run. A human mind, an economic distortion, sifts through trash to find their portion. A nation’s portrait, its leaders’ schemes, homeless Americans peddling their dreams.

©Kathy Paysen 2010

America is a clock whose time has come. In the hour of our tomorrows, she has imagined herself as a bomb ticking. The tension of her springs has sprung and the little bird is calling cuckoo, cuckoo. In all her history, she has never known that her time is balanced by a clock master.

Crafted in Europe, her artistry was carved by the hands of those that understood time was the delicate balance between rulers and rules. In view of her beauty she set sail to announce a new time, a freedom that would forever change a planet.
In the hour of her need she announced liberty and gave man a reason to work hard for their dreams. Day in and day out, her delicate second hand delivered great moments to be an American. There was work to be done, and labor was united into one nation.