Vivian Waite

In the other world, I can sense when trouble is at hand And resolve each problem that I meet. In that world, I can heal injustices And counsel lost souls with prudent voice.

Lord! The battle goes on, And the end is far from near; Duty is harsh, and pleasures are dear! The days are so dark that the night’s a relief. Please, hear me,

The stories of my mind are like Growing darkness, bursting light, Flitting shadows, rumored wars, Soaring clouds, and plunging stars.   Battle raging in my mind, What will I do with you? You take

Ancient as the knotted oak, He is the wisest of all his folk— White his coat and beard and tail; Keen eyes glowing without fail. His memory is deep; his knowledge, vast; His

Another semester of classes, And homework to the heavens: Another several months Of lectures and dining hall crowds;   Speed-reading and study; scribbles Of notes on this and that; Headaches and braindead moments When

See the fire blazing In the hearth—so amazing! Hear the branches cracking, Popping and snapping; Watch the flames dancing, Wildly enhancing, Bending, twisting, turning, While their dancing floor is burning! Feel heat

Without asking for thanks, he works In his quiet, humble way. Without a murmur, he endures The burdens of the day. Without a thought for his own wants, He gives to those in

I was a common person, A droplet in a cloud; God called me for a sunbeam, But I did not stand out. I could have helped that person; I could have said that

O God of earth and sea and sky, You stay the same all of the time; O Lord upon a timeless throne, You reign supreme; You reign alone: Help me in these shifting