The Coast I Prize the Most
At the coast I prize the most,
The cyprus tower darksome green,
All their height a stately boast,
Unto the ocean watching keen.
Roots in serpentine design,
Wending to the ocean sink,
Ravenous they all entwine,
Parched by sun they madly drink.
Breakers from some foreign age,
Cross the main in fleets of white,
Brilliant on the summer stage,
With the sun at dizzy height.
Here, the caves are chiseled deep,
Into cliffs of limestone rock,
Yellow tinted, set so steep,
Where the tern and seagull flock.
Such a sanctum, such a space—
In the caves I sit at length,
Still as death my shadowed face,
Leavening my secret strength.
Meditating in the stone,
Resting in the depths of peace,
In an otherworldly zone—
In the stillness soft release.
I invite the holy ghost,
To perfect mine very heart,
At the coast I prize the most,
Crafted into perfect art.
Under swaying trees I pray—
Peace be with you, kin and friend,
One with Christ this dreamy day,
One with Christ until the end…
adamdaniel 