by Phil Cotnoir
As night’s majestic silence swallows day angelic moonlit faces peaceful lay my conscience robbed thereof by daytime’s flight to brink and break and points beyond what’s right. When scroll of time in time’s unfurled and meas’ring eye t’wards past is curled I fear to know that estimation fear the nearing accusation for childhood like a veil obscures what then will be in need of cures. My son and daughters love without a thought to merit or a doubt their father is the very best esteemed adored above the rest. I know this myth cannot persist, life’s rising sun shall melt the mist. Gently’s best if you don’t mind lest I, myself at once do find esteemed in opposite proportion to the 'riginal distortion despised by they who once adored severing family’s sacred cord. I’ve seen it happen, felt the pull to open gates of feeling full Unleash heart’s currents without rein of truth adorned by bitter pain. To reap regret as failure’s harvest is all I see in future’s farthest. This dark concern has brimmed my mind with care eclipsing thought of He through all is there and lone can weave with bent stalk and bruised reed a blessed masterpiece: for this I kneel and plead.
Phil Cotnoir is a husband, a father of four, an avid reader, a freelance writer and editor, a graduate of Heritage College (Ontario), and has served as an elder in his church near Montreal. He works in the world of industrial automation (robots, gizmos, blinking lights) and blogs at www.philcotnoir.com.