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thomas-j-thiel
thomas-j-thiel
USA THOMAS J. THIEL / Born in New Jersey, Thomas J. Thiel has been involved in the arts most of his adult life. In 2013, Thomas' first novel, "Dreamland (The Worth Of Man), was published. As a songwriter, he received a prestigious award in the American Song Festival’s Sixth Annual Competition. Recently, he was a back to back finalist in the Great American Song Contest, in 2013, and 2014, for his songs "Now I'm Still Here," and "The Little Birds." Tom's Dream, a group he founded in 2013, just released their second CD on July 4th 2016. Thomas is forever grateful to the talented singers and musicians who performed on his compositions Currently, he divides his time between writing, acting, cycling, hiking, target shooting, and an assortment of other interests including a curiosity for unique graffiti. Living with his wife in the shadow of New York City has provided him with an excellent opportunity to remain a part of a vibrant artistic community.
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There was a Promise For Two      I am here, because, there was a promise for two.      It was a commitment  to their bond,        a mutual elective. But Maria’s beam disappeared after five hours.      Separated from mother’s womb,      her innocence was unable to endure the rigors      of an indifferent world, She was suppose to be daddy’s little girl,      Mommy’s alter image and brother’s shining star.      Soft....angelic. Their expectations converted to muted despair.      A balanced homecoming became questionable.      and over time, insurmountable.     The heartaches began to escalate, and eventually barricade concern for the mysteries destiny.      Tears fell, for what never would be,      tears for dreams,      and tears for abandoned dreams,      tears for Maria. Two years past      and I was the one chosen to replace her shadow.      Conceived to witness the hearts vacuum.      To kneel, with my back straight, next to an older brother before the hallowed space,      where, under the tightly packed sod, among uniformed columns of god’s beloved children,      sweet Maria lies in peaceful repose by the stone Grotto. My adolescent hands squeezed the polished silver,      as they pounded the cross into the unforgiving earth. I pondered my existence, while questioning my replanted tangibility,        trying to comprehend the equity of life through a spectral identity,      and  wondering where my place might be, if my sister had prevailed and flourished. One day, I returned to place a wooden crucible where the silver once glimmered in the sun.      I marked her name in burnt lettering. Again,  the effort was pilfered by the same callous world      Maria’s tiny fingers refused to touch. There was never coherence, but, eventually I understood. I am here, because, there was a promise for two      and for a small coffin,      that was lowered into the cold ground of North Arlington.
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
thomas-j-thiel
There Was a Promise For Two.
There was a Promise For Two      I am here, because, there was a promise for two.      It was a commitment  to their bond,        a mutual elective. But Maria’s beam disappeared after five hours.      Separated from mother’s womb,      her innocence was unable to endure the rigors      of an indifferent world, She was suppose to be daddy’s little girl,      Mommy’s alter image and brother’s shining star.      Soft....angelic. Their expectations converted to muted despair.      A balanced homecoming became questionable.      and over time, insurmountable.     The heartaches began to escalate, and eventually barricade concern for the mysteries destiny.      Tears fell, for what never would be,      tears for dreams,      and tears for abandoned dreams,      tears for Maria. Two years past      and I was the one chosen to replace her shadow.      Conceived to witness the hearts vacuum.      To kneel, with my back straight, next to an older brother before the hallowed space,      where, under the tightly packed sod, among uniformed columns of god’s beloved children,      sweet Maria lies in peaceful repose by the stone Grotto. My adolescent hands squeezed the polished silver,      as they pounded the cross into the unforgiving earth. I pondered my existence, while questioning my replanted tangibility,        trying to comprehend the equity of life through a spectral identity,      and  wondering where my place might be, if my sister had prevailed and flourished. One day, I returned to place a wooden crucible where the silver once glimmered in the sun.      I marked her name in burnt lettering. Again,  the effort was pilfered by the same callous world      Maria’s tiny fingers refused to touch. There was never coherence, but, eventually I understood. I am here, because, there was a promise for two      and for a small coffin,      that was lowered into the cold ground of North Arlington.
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