for Lynn Stirling and Tim Kent

strange how all beauty strikes the heart
and madness and fear lift like dew
the sun flares against the night drop
the birds sing true

what ails us in the light of day
rises up from the dust of night
the chaos of thought destroys us
and birds take flight

beauty shakes the hot and cold soul
and time unfolds its mystery
the truth is held inside the form
art tells the story

love frees the imprisoned heart
binds the soul's unwinding spiral
as beauty casts the edge of truth
so love is drawn

strange how all love strikes the heart, strange
how few agree on the meaning
when beauty and truth are memory
and no birds sing

strange how we come to understand
when truth and beauty rise from love
the magic that is always there
in the heart's song

and this is why we celebrate
the magic of such lovers here
meaning to hold for these moments
all our hearts near