we all wonder what will come,
will it be warm and safe and filled
our days consumed with life's true tasks,
but in the quiet moments we still must
The bitter coffee kicked,
I shook and then I licked
My lips and gave a sigh.
Shattered eyes encouraged,
I nearly had envisaged
Waking up an eye.
I walked a mile and then some more
I walked and walked as ne'er before.
And having walked yet further still,
I walked again to stay the thrill.
I try to forget all the regret
Or else life is mine to miss
Without saying what I truly feel
Then I'll always stay like this
I sometimes find I'm drifting
Through this life without effect
I often wonder if I'm truly
Worth what I've been blessed.
The moon has risen the sun has gone,
The fairies come out one by one.
The stars light their way through the weary night.
They must get prepared for their untimely flight.
The winter has come much too soon.
They must flee this night, by the light of the moon.
I can only imagine
What it's like to sacrifice
How it feels to do without
What it takes to pay the price
To offer all I have
Unto others with a need
I can only imagine
For myself, I live in greed
A lovely rose with petals soft
A scent so sweet and light
So beautiful a flower
With colors shining bright.
She looks into air, herself falling rain
Dripping coldness past, memories old pain.
Drops fall, the puddling her damp water life.
Spiraling a mirror, self lonely strife.
There is so much beauty in
This wondrous, blue rose
If only we could capture it
Within our very souls
If we could take its beauty
And apply the glow within
Search a little deeper
In the soul beneath our skin
Lonely words on doorstep the day he walked away.
Left behind a shattered woman, two children out at play.
Which way to turn? She pondered as the night grew darker still.
A withy woman she was not, yet, had to find the will.
A man doesn't have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn't have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.
I've been home a long time among the vast porticos,
Which the mariner sun has tinged with a million fires,
Whose grandest pillars, upright, majestic and cold
Render them the same, this evening, as caves with basalt spires.