Member Poem

Our misty eyes were destined for each other,
when at last we met at crossroads by the brook,
where voices in the sky did gently guide us,
up enchanting pathways known to but a few,
passed the prickly rose bush shepherds on each side of us,
passed the barren plains worn out by trampling hoofs,
over granite outcrops random crystal rubicon,
toward an ever arching slope that slowly rises above time and earthly longing,
to that peak beyond the sky where lovers dwell.