N Marion Hage

N Marion Hage

N Marion Hage is a poet/artist/writer who lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania in the United States. He is involved in ‘Compassion Acts,’ and is a member of ‘Friends for Peace.’ He also does inspirational speaking and writes for ‘Westsider Magazine’.

When asked about his art, Mr. Hage said, “There is one thing more enjoyable than creating, and that is sharing what you have made with others. I have always been a people person, and love to make others smile, and touch people’s hearts. If my art can accomplish that, then I have succeeded in life. As far as art goes, I like vivid colours. I do abstracts because I am not very good at creating much else. With words, I also like to paint pictures, and write things that will cause others to think. Art feeds the soul of the artist and those who enjoy what he creates.”
 

Wisdom

Your silken skin is
Altogether comely in my eyes.

Wisdom, is your name; and your voice
Speaks with the resonance of a million angels.
You have cried out from the lips of passing strangers,
In the guise of a child, and through the weathered lips of an ancient.

You are never silent, if I have but only a listening heart, a willing ear to hear.

Enrich me with your gold-spun proverbs.
Lift my spirits, and enlighten me with your silver riddles.
Light my paths, and incline my feet toward the best road.
Take me away from the scoffers, the paths of fools, lest I
Trip and stumble, with none to lift me up.

As a gentle hand and a soft breeze, guide me
Away from the path which might be seemingly harmless,
But leads to the pit of scorpians,
And down into the valley of the Leviathan!

Feed my soul and kiss me with your lips, my
Beautiful Wisdom. Be to me the lover
Ever at my side, protecting me from
Foolish ways.


Eyes of the Soul

Have you ever perceived the heart of a man,
What is buried deep within his cold plated armor,
Hidden from view, except to the eyes of the soul?

The soul sees further, deeper,
Than the eyes of flesh can tell.

I have peered with my heart, perceiving words unread.
Only the eyes of the soul can see and discern their meaning.

The Heart Reader sees past the fruit of lips, beyond words said,
To all that a person would want to say, needs to say, that which
Is buried for fear of being seen.

Servant

Striving to be called, “lord of men”, some will
Climb, crushing, pushing countless faces down into the lees.
Is not the greater office that of a servant;
One who refreshes souls, and lifts the wearily laden
From the misery of the miry pit?

In striving to be exalted, the proud have killed.
For the sake of attaining stature, they have maimed!
But who has wounded in their humility, in their
Seeking abasement?

If you would rule; then rule as a servant.
Sit upon the throne as one enslaved by love.
Be not as the Tyrant King of self-exaltation,
Enthroned upon the crushed skulls of his people.

The Truth

If my heart is inclined to the truth, I shall
Not shrink away from it, though it seem
Cold and cruel, not what my ears long to hear.
Should I turn from honesty though it slay me?

Then, shall I be inclined to know the truth, thought it be
Spoken fleetingly, passing quickly before my ears,
My heart shall not be inclined
To believe a lie.

However, if my heart is impure, and I should
Desire to master fate, wanting
Anything above the truth, I shall believe a lie,
And it shall grip my soul, and bring me down
To a pit too deep to crawl from.

Truth, may not be what I desire, but it
Shall surely be my cure.

Honest Mirror

Do I fear being seen for who I really am?
Or, do I fear more, not being seen for who I really am?

That which is lovely, longs to be regarded,
Released from the prison of obscurity.
That which is unlovely, longs to be hidden, tucked-away,
Chained to the prison of obscurity.

“To be seen, or not to seen?” that is the question!
Would that which I hope for, be that which slays me?

All men long to be the good son, noble and righteous.
All men fear being the bad boy, ignoble and wicked.
Are we all little more than little boys, alternatingly hiding
And prancing, showing off the latest tricks we have learned?

Is the cave that which I should fear, or that which protects me?
Perhaps we no longer want to be little boys, and that is the dilemma.