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Franklin L. King

The Reason I Exist

What is it that I have sought?
Not self-worth I suggest;
Nor books authored to sleep contented upon a shelf.

Property should bring the greatest joy to me.
The sweet song of meadow birds that dwell upon my land.
The morning sun upon the fields does shine.
Frost upon the winter wheat soon follows the summer’s heat

Perhaps degrees will provide solace to me.
Respect for diplomas unread upon a wall.
Titles well suited to a courtesan and her companion, Solitude.

I know now why I exist.
To love and be loved is the answer clear.
A holy well that fills the cup of my desire.

Your smile always present.
Acclaim is sought in the holding of your hand.
The music of the fields your voice sings anew.

I know now why I choose to breathe.
The fragrance of the rose within your hair.
Your lips the taste of Barcelona wine.
Your touch the softness of a reflecting pool.

It is to love you and you alone.
To hear your voice and to embrace your hand.
Take all from me but your love, and I will flourish;
As does the forest of Kildare.



The wooded trail leads to falling water and trees aflame with autumn fire.
Thoughts carried by the stream to great rivers and then the sea.
I have returned to walk once more as leaves fall upon the path.
You are there with me; though not to touch.

Let me feel your warmth while time remains.
Accessible to the moment is my love.
Think me not a stranger; time has passed too freely.
Burning wood and spring buds pursue the softness of this day.

Wine and party chatter have I searched and found.
Song and laughter pursued by loneliness and doubt.
Can I not walk upon this wooded path and not remember you?
Your hair the color of the fiery leafs; your gentle voice above the chatter of the stream.

This day I return to walk where the water flows from the holy site.
With you, my dream of love, within the autumn woods.
Leaves once more fall upon the path.
The waters flow from the falls above the ancient yew.

My dream but falling leaves that touch the waters of the stream.
The winter will soon roam about the glade.
Snow unannounced arrives and fires will glow within the hearth.
We appear but for a moment like flaming leafs upon the woodland oak.


The Beach

The warmth of the sun comforts you.
Skin cleansed by the salty sea.

Among crowds you smile and are content.
Along the beach the dachshunds play.

Let not your thoughts return to Rome.
Sip the wine and do not think of me.

A visitor of dreams within the night.
A friend in shadows to caress and forget.

The warm beach shall be your friend and lover.
Sun and sea now touch your lips and lay with you upon the sand


The Visual Part of Man

Does man vanish like a vision upon a glass?
A moment of time to play a part;
Then the silence of the stage.

Do we see in all dimensions or understand all things?
Adrift upon a world that is tethered to a star; we marvel at the light.
There are few answers revealed till time itself shall cease within the void.

There are no natural laws that dictate our desire.
The human heart is not ruled by the logic of man.
Desire the rule itself dictates.

We are the icebergs of the northern sea.
The visual part alone we understand.
Seek not that which others see.
Hidden from view is the soul of man.

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