"Things are becoming good",
What beautiful lines erupt from the wisdom,
Oh!
not from me,
From one who had pree,
Pree myriad possibilities,
Unheralded life proffered serenity.

What a beautiful surprising life
Is so precious but it cuts you like a knife
A painful sunset shakes thoughts awake
Every evening from the fantasies we make
A bright new sunrise in the early haze
Midafternoon hot like a blaze
Commanding time
Providing light
She rules day
He rules night
The moon cloaked in shades of black
The sun robed in white and blue
Perfect balance to steady the universe
Allowing meaning to all we do
King and Queen of humble Earth
Governing vast sky
Without reciprocation
No complaining
No asking why
How come I am so ungrateful?
Why can't I realize I am blessed?
I should be thanking trees for the oxygen supplied
Instead cursing the air inflating my chest
I need to open my eyes all the way
Look a little harder around
Because on days with no sunshine to be found
Just under clouds that star is still there
Reliably shining away from man's stare
It is true that every second in this world is a gift
Remember next time you feel low and seek a lift
Cherish miracles hidden
Great and small
Gaze towards the heavens when bowed by a fall
Even if you can't see its glow or feel its gentle burn
The sun is there in our stormiest hours
Eventually it's presence will return

I have written poems about rising.
It’s a good subject for poets.
Isn’t a poem itself a rising?
We spend much time revising
what we write and what we do.

There are so many good words ending in izing.
I could write a whole poem
using words symbolizing
so much of life -
it’s absolutely tantalizing.

I watch and read about all the polarizing.
It is a cool oasis lingering here
synchronizing
my words with my feelings and thoughts
realizing the heart of who I really am
comprising ways of saying my truth
without moralizing.

At times it is agonizing -
all this analyzing
how I belong and how I don’t
if I’ll join others or if I won’t.

I look at that guy Jesus
and how so many obsess
about his blood and sacrifice
all the while not recognizing
it’s not so much about our sins
and his need to atone as it is
about the good he did
who he sat with and loved,
the seeds he sowed
who he stopped to touch
on the side of the road.

I find obsessions with power
really unappetizing.
I’d rather spend my time rising
from darkness into light
or embracing my sadness, exercising
and emphasizing what is energizing.  
When I do that, it is quite surprising
how creative my muse is helping ME
to also rise.

Make missions,

Go fishing, try eating something with nutrition.

Call yourself Christian, call yourself missing,

Anything at all,

Ride both the rise and the fall,

Horizon overriding, still deciding and surmising minutes while atoms casually colliding,

Not surprising, devising tides inside the pride of prized chastising.

So yeah, prolly go to hell,

******* go everywhere else before I get there and have some stories to tell,

No glory in dull,

Voiding reward set annulled,

Board the encore of boredom to quell.

Withdraw the assorted fortunes from the dormant shells that they dwell.

Implore on Discordia when yore sets a spell.

Call on your awesome, most of all, try your best -

Wish ya well.