Love Vision

for Kate

A woman strolls along the wooded trail,
with joggers, bikers, skaters, speeding by,
and taps the path to read the way like braille,
in sweeps to feel where obstacles could lie.
From in her radio, some people talk
and keep her in the twilight company,
and others often join her on her walk.
She smiles at the joys her soul can see.
The sight of her has pulled me from my woes
that blinded me to other people’s plights,
their blessings and their curses, highs and lows,
their sufferings as well as their delights.
A woman on the trail is blind, yet she,
with beaming smile walking, helps me see.

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Mario A. Pita

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Melodic

Like melodies that vary in their pitches
from highs to lows to everywhere between,
we reach great heights or else we fall in ditches
and wonder what these ups and downs can mean.
When at the height, we feel that we are blessed,
and in the ditch we feel there’s something wrong,
yet what in these extremes we hadn’t guessed
was that they were the pitches of a song
whose melody will rise and fall and rise.
Though it is not a song that we can hear
or one that we can trace with notes for eyes,
I hope the time will come when it is clear:
we’ll know each rise and fall is meant to be
as rise and fall within Love’s melody.

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Mario A. Pita

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Friend Duo

for Amy

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Significance

The meanings of every word that has been said,
and meanings from languages still yet to be,
meanings in every lingo written or read,
are few compared to what you mean to me.
That’s not in a dictionary we could find
as what you mean to me can’t be defined.

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Twilight Call

My eyes were taking in the twilight sky’s
gorgeous mass of blazing orange hue
when beauty entered ears instead of eyes
because I got a call that came from you:
the sky was grounds enough to then rejoice
when more emerged: I got to hear your voice.

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Mario A. Pita

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Bulbs

If I’m a bulb, You’re electricity.
Without You, I could not illuminate.
It’s only through Your current that’s in me
that light instead of dark can be my fate.
Yet some think that their brightness is their own
and don’t believe in what’s unseen, a force
that has been felt yet still remains unknown
and is of all our lights the power source.
But like a grape that grows upon a vine,
I am a bulb that just lights on a wire,
with current that’s from You and isn’t mine.
So I may light, You are what I require.
As one of many bulbs strung on a tree,
I know You give the light that comes from me.

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Mario A. Pita

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Rose Kiss

Past poets have compared red lips to roses,
and though by now that image is cliché,
it’s not an image that my soul opposes,
because it seemed most pertinent today
when I beheld a rose that looked like lips,
in full bloom that inspired me to kiss,
years since my amorous relationships,
and I felt there was loveliness in this,
for though I lack a lover, I can still
love all the world and kiss it through this rose
whose lip-like beauty can in me instill
a feeling that by way of kissing grows:
how beautiful the world that Love composes
where roses are like lips and lips like roses.

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Mario A. Pita

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Immanence

The hymns which speak of You as lofty king
are not the ones I want to hear today.
Afflicted as I am, I want to sing
the hymns that show You in another way.
It’s not that I deny that You are royal,
nor do I think that I am not a peasant,
yet in this world of beauty and of toil,
the hymns I want to sing show You as present:
You’re here with us, not on some distant throne
and grant our joys and share in our afflictions,
amidst the sinfulness to which we’re prone
and make us real although we have been fictions.
Not living in a castle, encircled by a moat,
You’re all around us – intimate, not remote.

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Mario A. Pita

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Tree Romance

While strolling on a trail, I overheard
a toddler girl declare she loved a tree,
and I was moved to witness what occurred:
she wrapped her arms around it lovingly.
She stared in admiration from its base
toward its lofty and resplendent crown,
with innocent devotion on her face,
exclaiming then, “I want to chop it down!”
Enchantment shattered into sudden shock:
what kind of love was this that she professed?
Then understanding struck me like a rock:
she wished to take it home as love possessed.
Instead, she embraced until the time to go,
leaving a tree she loved where it can grow.

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Mario A. Pita

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