Outrider

Tell me the story of some distant star,

of a thousand years and a theme that beckons the same.

Here and there comes a blackness near and far,

the canvas of light cast upon a great unknown.

Will they too know God or know some other name,

to be unique in that regard and never alone?

It is ours, that silent walk into the night,

mapping the galaxies by our heavy steps below.

These, the celestial mystery hidden in plain sight,

where the stars never speak or give their reasons.

And neither do we, if the truth is ours to know,

if anything is to be known in these cold seasons.

"Tell us your story", is that not what we said,

and we pause because we have heard it all before.

They are clear and spacious, the stories in our head,

told and re-told so that nothing is wanting more.

We long for something new, for what lies in store,

turning of the pages where all we find is fear.

Here in prayer, in complete address to silence,

we become as love's plaintiff and patient.

Here we speak to hope and pride in our defiance,

deep unto the final argument, awaiting final sentence.

And here we wait at last no more complacent

with the solidarity of simple men's  alliance.

Brian Francis Hudon,

March 13, 2023

Beauty

 

Love sees what is beyond chance,

to neither judge or see but know beauty.

We live in time and circumstance,

and are not equal if we are not changing.

Little changes what I dearly see,

even by time's turbulent rearranging.

A heart often searches each night,

searching, as for a familiar hand to hold.

Familiar eyes so like stars as bright,

they are the sun and in the darkness smile.

To circle the sun until I grow old,

is but a dream or perhaps to stay a while.

Brian Francis Hudon

September 24, 2020

Nameless Hosts

 

It begins the life, the new morning,

light broken, renewed on the rocks of death.

I've stared into the abyss and its warning,

and searched for home in all the familiar places.

All we want is another day, another breath,

and the old familiar comfort of faces.

I am done with dreams and ghosts,

compelled by endless fear that has no name,

Emotions introduced by nameless hosts,

arriving by the hour and season beyond count.

Such change would not leave us the same,

fear and courage in the same amount.

Brian Francis Hudon

September 21, 2020

Lives as Different

Such days as these would we ever dream,

not a score of wagers so strange has time imagined,

so wrought with grief at such a sordid scheme.

Here we'll dream of spring and nature's colorful games,

where flower and leaf are delicately fashioned,

where the years forget not their names.

To gaze upon rainy days cool and grey,

makes solitude's reinvention in days now stronger.

The solemn haze of night is soon hidden away,

and fades, replaced by dreams, if sleep were so pleasant,

And tomorrow perhaps should find me younger,

and to my pressing needs more present.

Under the waning stars we'll soon wake,

to lives as different and more familiar than before.

Each new day's work discovers more at stake,

and takes hold of a world lately become like a stranger.

The sun will set gold on days of work and more,

mark the time since the passing danger.

Brian Francis Hudon

April 13, 2020

A Silent Sentence

Longing awaits in tender night,

a heart's delight, but finds darkness there.

The shadow soon blankets every sight,

who would listen? What is this sordid influence?

What truth in silence no one should bear,

becomes every day a silent sentence.

In daylight I remember a word,

I remember innocence and a quieter place.

You remained you and I remained me,

before the commands of approval reigned here.

Does happiness still remember your face,

that once could smile without fear.

Cruelty masks itself once more,

smiling with tears, laughing through pain.

Affection dare not wound and adore,

inflicting deeper doubt than a heart can endure.

Truest is friendship, in its gentlest strain,

like a helping hand, sound and sure.

How to free a lion from the cage,

or release this bird from the master's hand?

Their puzzle defines my coming of age,

ever demanding is that rarest virtue of patience.

And patient I shall win and with you stand,

against this and other darker agents.

Brian Francis Hudon

February 4, 2020

Fate

Do tempt us fate, tempt us for the days,

lovely ways, as late night finds us alone once more.

Broken by time, where darkness seldom stays,

as light should reveal us, confirm us, make us stronger.

Time is not the same as younger days before,

years growing short and winters longer.

No greater pain than love left unspoken,

that would haunt us us into our dreams and follow.

Nothing marks resilience as the man unbroken,

a branch bent in the wind, carrying the storm by night.

Beauty forever young is the dawn and fallow,

as pure as moonlit snow and dawn alight.

In words secret and silent our all is given,

a thing quietly proclaimed, a heart's secret desires.

In affection and more our passions are driven,

guiding hands to navigate the unseen work of creation. 

And human hopes fuel the ever burning fires,

to credit us dearly in our humble station.

Nightfall comes searching for the morn,

a signal beacon and light, might we tomorrow rise.

Our life is new and in the morning sun is born,

even we here too, strangers and friends might find love.

To search is to discover and find, a final prize,

to breathe once more and to rise above.

Brian Francis Hudon

January 26, 2020

Summer Dreams

Light is fresh upon a daylight firmament,

a morning in life playing in the drama of my hours.

A fretful play upon the waters, contentment, 

and the diamonds of the early minutes soon fade away.

Hope would have us beholding golden flowers,

and waging our daydream upon the day.

My world has turned its face into the sun,

I am greeted with the fairest radiant countenance.

Have we won? It bears comparison to none,

smiling eyes and laughter become the spoils of peace.

A maiden married of exuberance and reticence,

moments of beauty here do not cease.

Such is longing to only touch warmest life,

to feel its strong embrace and to confirm its reality.

Not cold reality and beneath its bitter knife,

but a soft place to rest my head and dream once more.

Breathing finds its meaning, certainty, finality,

now that each day is richer than before.

I have dreamed for this in time and space,

to meet this end and discover some new beginning.

Soon to reconcile age in this time and place,

an equality of being and knowing awaits with wisdom.

But such foolishness sends thoughts to spinning,

as somewhere lost to fate and freedom.

Brian Francis Hudon

January 20, 2020