The Solitary Path

Poems by Christopher Andrew Cooke

For the passing clouds, the winter skies, and the miles in between.

Written while in living in Japan in 1997

Where Does My Lover Lie

Where does my lover lie?
Far beyond the hills I cry.
Far beyond hills, trees, and sand,
Farther than, farther than...

She’s far above the tallest ship,
And far below the deepest depths.
So when you ask of where she’s laid,
She’s laid her head at many a place.

And many places she will be,
Until the wind will rise up through the trees,
To take my lover, both soft and kind,
To a better place that I may someday find.

Perhaps to a place where she needs to be,
Across the heavens, lands, and seas.
Among the stars she will shine,
To hide from the death of wintertime.

Still in my mind, she’s bright and clear,
And soothes my soul when hate draws near,
Soon to push me to realize
That she lives strong and true
In my heart, mind, and eyes.

When The Night Sky Is Clear

When the night sky is clear
And I see the stars vividly,
I listen to the gentle wind
As it speaks your name.

This Morning

This morning I watched
the early morning sun
caress the noble horizon.

I dream not to touch
its kind and gentle face,
but to run my hands
through its shining glow.

Has Our Love Become Nothing?

Has our love become nothing?
Has it ceased to be?
Or is it covered
like passing clouds in the winter sky?

Have our dreams become nothing?
Have they ceased to be?
Or have they lost their way
like two worlds never to meet?

Have our dreams become nothing?
Have they ceased to be?
Or have they faded from our sight
like the mist in the morning sun?

Have our dreams become nothing?
Have we ceased to be?
Or are we just unfortunate
like the moon above our heads,
silently moving on its solitary path
through the lonely heavens?

Is this what we have become?
Has our love become nothing?

Oh Gracious World

Oh Gracious World.
I long to be in your arms again.
To feel your solemn oceans,
your mighty rivers, and swift seas.
To run across your luscious meadows,
your kind valleys, and your wild fields.

Oh Gracious World.
How I yearn to be one again,
to taste your autumn air,
your winter snow, and your summer rain.
To be in your powerful tides,
your earnest winds, and your graceful clouds.

Oh Gracious World.
If only a moment could be ours again.
To see your bustling cities,
your peaceful lakes, and your proud mountains.
To speak to me in your glistening dew,
your soft breezes, and your luminous skies.

Oh Gracious World.
How I wait for thee again,
to burn in your sun,
to wane in your twilight,
and to rise in your horizon.
Then I too will awaken and smile and say,
Oh Gracious World.

Have You Ever Seen The Shadows in The Grove?

Have You Ever Seen The Shadows in The Grove?
Have you ever seen the mist
of a long goodbye sigh?

Have you ever seen the sadness
of the branches
of a soft and lonely smile?

Have you ever seen the ripples
of a teardrop
rolling across a cheek?

Have You Ever Seen The Shadows in The Grove?

It Could Have Been

It could have been this morning,
that I stay awake and watch the sun
go from a tarnished gold
to a softened pale sunrise.

It could have been this afternoon,
that I watch the wind,
slowly, but carefully,
blow away the clouds from the sky.

And it could have been this evening,
that I sit staring
into a starless, lonely evening
and wonder what will be.

It could have been anytime
that we could be together.
It could have been.
It could have been.

Good Morning

Oh, how I long
to hold your face again.
To kiss your ever so soft lips again,
to feel the warmth of your breasts again.
And to see your eyelashes flutter in the morning,
as you open your eyes for the first time.

Oh, how I long
to wake together again,
to see your wonderful smile again.
To watch your face light up the world again,
and to hear your kind and lilting voice,
as you look at me and say,
"Good Morning."

Love

I've seen it among the snowdrifts
of Nova Scotia,
and tasted it in the salt air
of the Florida Coastline.

I've heard it whispered in the pines
of North Carolina,
and felt it in the mist
of the Scottish Highlands.
And each time, I knew its name.

Now, I see it in your eyes,
taste it on your lips,
hear it in your voice,
and feel it in your touch.

It's simple and true.
It's love.

Untitled

In the quivering sunlight
of a winter's afternoon,
I wait for you to come.

In the long and fading shadows
of a winter's evening,
I wonder where you are.

In the cold and barren darkness
of a winter's night,
I realize you are here.

Somewhere Grows a Flower

Somewhere grows a flower,
its scent so sweet
that once inhaled,
you'll never know hatred.

Its color so vibrant
that once seen,
you'll never know sadness.

Its petals so soft
that once touched,
you'll never know loneliness.