unfair

to sing the day into its rise
the love and loss of timely hope
when death comes and steals a friend
to wonder if death is understood at all

perhaps the flower knows it better
as petals are a part of the plant
turning upwards toward the sun

so humans are a part of something close
and yet remote
a system that churns and grows another flower
another day

if one is picked
and boldly taken from us
taken away

the soul is larger than
any one part of it could say…

i sing the day to rise
i pray into the void
where nothing is a something
holding notes and pleas apart

i close my eyes
and touch the fabric
of the system, churning
where all life and supplication
gain their start

i see the vast complexity
yearn for all that’s wise
but truly wisdom is
the tears that live in other eyes…

as i look on in stunned
and grimy silence

knowing one such as i
can touch the One
with all We am
the answer is
there is no question worthy
for this sand
that drifts away
in time’s cruel glass

no perfect way
no subtle play
to say good-bye

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Trapping

Ever one to pull the grade
Songs of silence
Never made

 

Pull the truth
Begin the pact
When icing is a cake
On tract

 

To storm and rage
The ever-flow
The wit on stage
Begins to blow

 

And as I look
For peace and smiles
In patience for
A little while …

 

I round the round
In rounder styles

 

Ponder

Whatever things I think

Are fluff along the way

Born on winds like seeds

To live another day…

sometimes I wonder IF

The world had never changed

Would life be all there is

In battles gone astray

No better words are able

No lines of hope more just

In looking on this world

And say you can’t! but then you must …

so where do I implore you?

How do I break through?

It’s better to be a thinker

Better to stir the stew

Than have every care and worry

About what others think of you!

 

 

Opposition

Never was the sense

Of how the stubborn hold the gate

The march to breathe remittance

From tides that kiss

Confounded shores

Never was my passport

All that’s set
In journeys wide and far

The architect of Never
Was what Never was the same
True paths that cross the criss
As Never plods
In Never gains for wise decrees…

How does Never hold a candle

To what Ever believes