For the Pure Ones

By Eve Lorgen

August 26, 2019


For the pure forgotten ones, whose true story was never told.

Your history erased, corrupted counterfeits revisioned.

Your life, your memories, your heart that was stolen.


I know you and feel your desire to be heard,

to be loved, valued and understood.

Oh how much it hurts to be left alone to endure

hardships unimaginable, and yet we are still here.


Our life is the miracle of a mystery unseen,

unacknowledged workings of the realities in between.

In a harsh world of countless human needs unmet,

we continue on in strength, sometimes dispondent and yet

we remain living amongst the dead; paying off a debt.


To understand what this means and who you really are

takes a mind of thunder, both virgin and whore.

Judge not and learn how to love with no hidden agendas.

The heart has no firewalls and our souls are living legends

of who and what we are.


Be true, and truly be intent of purity.

Surrendering illusions, distilling all but integrity.

Love only happens through understanding. 

When you get it, it gets you. You know and are known.

Clarity appears when what is reaped was previously sown.


Your fellow Cross Bearer before the corruption.


The Black Angel Ladies

This poem came to me regarding a mystery.

The Black Angel Ladies

By Eve Lorgen 6/18/016

They sit together in unabashed apparel.
Donning masks of matronly unwantedness, in this world of reversals.

Quietly they seem, in hushed whisperings,
their black skin and styled hair—shimmering.
They wait with me in calm elegance.
They are not of this world: Beyond happenstance.

Graced with wisdom, they sing to me
The Hymn of the Pearl: My Beloved’s Victory.
They unlock my grief of Eternal Widowhood.
Bearing the same crown; It is all understood.

Our widowhood lies in humanity’s lack
of incorruptible eternal remembrance: We fill in the gap.
We sing, we are sung, oracles of old.
Recognizing those with hearts of gold.

We are ladies in waiting, who hold the Pearl.
Unbethrothed and invisible to the wisdom of this world.

The Sorcerer’s Captive

 By Eve Lorgen 10/24/014


I have always loved you.

And I love you still.

What you didn’t know

The prison wardens plot to kill.


You think he is your ally—

while you shunned my soul’s intent.

Through his lies of deceit

My heart was twisted and rent.


All I wanted to do

is to sing my hearts desire.

To bathe you in my softness.

To share our twinned hearts fire.


And then I knew you knew me

to a depth that caught us off guard.

You said, “I know what you are doing.”

And proceeded with a dance and spar.


Driven to know my history

with assumptions of sexual naiveté,

the prison warden took control

Delighting to control his new prey.


When I saw what he had done

to you as a child.

How he shot you down

Shaming you with addictions defiled.


We danced anyway,

And then there was a kiss.

Embracing in a slow dance

In a gentleness of bliss.


I asked you, “What do you want?”

In a rare moment of precious connection.

You answered, “You” and then

I proceeded to the next question.


“What is your true desire?”

The supernatural intention

revealed itself to me

In a stuttered, agony of tension.


“I p.. pr…pr…propose”, you said to me.

From your innocent caged heart

From the one that I knew and loved.

But then we were torn apart.


The warden who stole your soul

was laughing in mocked precision.

His eternal plans in the making

for a marriage of entrapped derision.


It was You I desired

and not your ally of deceit.

Your commitment to his mission

Is laden with deviation and conceit.


Your agreement of entrapment

was a lie from its inception.

Knowing our souls were one

Whose power could obliterate deception.


Now my greatest hope

is to love you from afar

To dance alone,

while gazing at the stars.


I choose to believe that it is still true

“that my song will go forth well protected.

a continuity not to be commanded

and likely to be taken for abandon.”


I honor your choice and love you still.

And believe some day we will dance.

Embracing in our awakening from this dream

And we will dance, yes we will dance….




The Samurai’s Honor

by Eve Lorgen


It is better to die for honor,

than to live a lie.

To bow out of competitiveness’s grasping

climbing the social ladder, golden pie.


Loss of illusion can make a grown man cry.

A woman lose her hope when beauty goes awry.

To realize the loss of your precious life

chasing pipe dreams and fantasies

that never arrived.


Let go, let go, of childish games.

The hopes and dreams that never came.

The journey of life, its losses, joy and pains.

Can bring forth wisdom or bitterness and disdain.


The honor of the Samurai, monk or nun.

The Bodhisattva’s ideal,

the divine will be done.


It isn’t whether you win or lose,

but the honor you lived while staying true.

There comes a point in time when the divine takes the lead.

Like a Samurai sword severing a fine reed.

The wheat from the chaff,

the truth from the lie.

It is better to die for honor

than to live a lie.