From the Flock
of the Soul
Karl McKnight [my son]
There is a place where love abides . . .
Maybe it exits beyond the stars.
M ybe it lives in the soul.
Maybe it lies under a rock after the blood runs
M aybe it shines in a simple smile.
Maybe it echoes in a child’s laugh.
Maybe it is treasure we find along the path.
Maybe it patiently awaits in a story untold.
Maybe it eludes in dreams of a lonely heart.
M aybe it is the promise that will never depart.
Maybe it got burned in flames of desire.
Maybe its breathe is kin to fire.
Maybe it is a race ran to the wire.
Maybe it occupies the flank on our wounded pride.
Maybe it drives our need to belong.
Maybe it is only heard in the rhythm of our song.
M aybe it rests on the rock of ages.
Maybe it is whispered on the lips of sages.
Maybe it is shared in the air we share.
M aybe it signature is the comic flare.
Maybe it pays the cost when all is lost.
Maybe it is the slave who is really the boss.
Maybe it is a mere function of space and time.
Maybe it bestows sight onto the blind.
Maybe it is the thread of the reality we create.
Maybe it is the dread once bared at the gate.
Maybe it’s sum is greater than its parts.
Maybe it is the connection of light right before
Maybe its mission is to free the mind.
Maybe it exists just to be kind.
For whatsoever it is or is not we shall not hide.
The sanctuary I hold for my enemy.
The ration of my blood will provide.
The stone that was rejected.
Shall hold back the tide.
Forging ahead carrying one another while.
Sharing from within the place where love abides . . .