To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist — Oscar Wilde. This is a place where I talk about all things life and how it affects us. Consider it your place too as we do what we do best, living.
Burn
Which wishful wind fans your heart, A tiny twinkling sparkle blazes, Uncontainable furnace flames, Only the Potter they trust, The kiln breaking clay hearts, Unrequited love sorrowfully cries.
The Devil on a Leash
Black isn’t dark, Pure isn’t white Aliases bedecked, silver coins betray Leaking wounds fester, steel nails pierce Darkness engulfs, weeping resounds One word speak, let there be Emerge forth now, life is red Yellow is light, black is white.
A Friend
Mind wanders in silent solitude No bounds to thoughts streaming in Like a whirlwind round they spin Alas an acquaintance arises Amidst the tornado a still small voice Carry not the load alone whispers A burning furnace he consumes Yet inside of him he makes me stand Refined porcelain I emerge
The Apple
Dare to stand at the gates At the painted red tree to gaze What more can a sinful man lose? Bequeathed with courage Perhaps drenched in bloody blood Isn’t life and death abstract? Concepts of His art painted at Eden Why sheath your scarlet sins? Here is eternal eternity
To Trust
In the dewey mountain tops Spring streams spring forth Undecided unknown path Light like a feather Large rocks they carve Tear down the earth below Their territory widening Where is theirs end? Fate and faith decide
Salt
New found palate Bitter redefined perhaps Sweet maybe poisonous Says Connoisseur’s tongue Why the difference? New heart possibly?
The Wait
Winds whistle a new song Old tires course through The ruggedy rough road With patterned puncture patches The journey justly jeopardized By unseen scribbler scribe Then she slowly squeaky stops.
Under The Sheets
Cold lonely nights Sweet pain it is He cries you cry A harmony of two beings Yours milk is life Coos mending hearts Deep slumber swallows them What is warmth?
The Red Dot
How strange a feeling The fleeting anxiety Almost sure but unsure Your enemy in sight Steadfast and persistent Like a bird on a buffalo Walls of Jericho crumble But is victory theirs?
Surely Morning Will Come
Darkness looms around her fragile heart Like mud her heart has been trampled Inside of her it beats and stops It whimpers only loud enough for her The broken rhythm of a heart pained Will no one roll the tombstone away? Like Lazarus she waits for him Will the day of resurrection not come? Surely…
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