When will I wake,
From this dream of horrors?
A nightmare sprinkled,
With drops of light amidst darkness.
Forever I am reaching,
Yearning for something to hold.
Something on which to take purchase,
A foundation on which to build a life.

Too many competitors,
Claiming to have truth,
When all I see is the lie,
That runs through them all.
One day I'll find my inner peace,
One day I hope to be content.
No more of the itching,
The feeling of malcontent anxiety,
Distrustful and displeased with myself.
It's a nightmare.
I've tried to change,
Meditation, talking, medications,
But nothing lasts.
Not religious conviction,
Not career goals,
No life purpose takes hold.
Each day is full,
Small victories and constructive habits,
But what is my journey?
They say life is about the journey,
Not the destination.
But for me there is no journey,
And certainly no destination.

I'm floating in an abyss,
Drifting like a spec of dust,
In this large confusing world.
I've looked outside myself,
I've looked inward.
There is no relief,
No revelation of belief.
No moment of understanding,
Of why or what or when.
I am alone,
Without solid footing,
Without a firm grip,
On whatever truth there is.
It's a nightmare,
And I can't wake up.

I'll never amount to anything,
I can never do things right.
I'm always questioned,
Always second guessed.
Never taken at my word,
They must think I'm dumb or lazy.
Maybe I am... I'm starting to believe them.
This world feels too harsh for me,
I want to go to sleep and not wake up.
I wish I could run away,
I don't want to be here.
I am not happy.
When was the last time I was happy?
A very long time ago.
Yes, minutes and even hours
Of happiness occur,
From time to time,
But it never lasts.
I'm always afraid, unsure,
Nervous, anxious, sad.
Life doesn't feel like a blessing,
It feels like a prison.

There’s so much pain,
And I am powerless,
In this world,
To do much of anything.
These problems are too big,
And I feel so small.

Beautiful and swimming,
Dancing in my head,
Dreams from repose forgotten,
Sweet and simple fish.
Little do they know,
But in their scales lie hidden,
Jewels of  mind’s abode,
For me to figure out those gems,
Understanding is my task.
To know the puzzle of those gems,
Placed within the scales,
Belonging to the fishes that are my dreams.
Dance again lovely ones,
You have something to tell.
In time I will make sense,
Of the beautiful world you hold.

Happily I play the harp,
A soothing melody.
She sings a gentle lullaby,
And gives my worries wings-
Away they fly, away they fly,
They will cease to be.
All that matters is,
What will forever be-
Those indifferent melodies,
Of life ongoing eternally.

I lie down in the shade,
On green grass so tender,
My soul is touched by its coolness.
I am one with the grass,
Not afraid or lost or hurting,
Not happy or sad or excited.
I am grass,
I am being.
The wind is my breath,
All is calm.
In and out,
In and out.

I find my rest,
My soul is content,
Happy with whatever will be.
Dreams do not urge me,
Memories do not haunt.
I drink from the waters,
Of this moment before me.
In the present,
I am most alive,
In this moment.
And yet I find my rest,
My soul is content.

An early spring morning-
Fog hangs on the river.
Dawn's light again born king,
Dances with the shadows,
A lovely scene beheld.
Great beauty, yet simple,
Nature alone is here.
I should be lifted up,
By this perfect sunrise,
Yet I am struck instead,
With an aching torment.

Unable I, to speak,
Its etiology,
Nor put to words the pain.
I cannot comprehend,
Why a scene picturesque,
Should cause such emptiness.
My soul pines for beauty,
Always, unrelenting,
In anticipation,
Of a heaven on earth.

Thus when a glimpse I view,
Expecting paradise,
No words can near explain,
The downcast turn of soul,
Realizing what exists,
And what shall never come-
A beautiful abode,
Free of pain, hurt, and death,
Is so far from this day.
Far from reality,
What is longed for greatly,
Expectations unmet.

Reunited by a view,
On a gay spring morning,
Of paradise hoped for.
My soul aches in knowing,
That nothing will appear,
Resembling that full grace.
No form nor shape given,
Ever to my dream place.

Like rose petals floating downstream,
Full blooms cast into the sea,
Forgotten soon after,
As nights reluctant spent,
In beds of strangers gleam,
Dimly in memory like weak tea.
This one brews strong with laughter,
Smiles and sighs, steamy scent,
Of this lover now with she,
Who calls into the void of time,
A mute cry for meaning,
Some remnant to live in legacy.
Within the deafness of space be,
Evidence of them. Zest of lime,
Tang of life, short and leaning,
Ever closer to abyss in ecstasy.
Here in your arms I am free,
All is easy, all is well.
I can still smell your scent,
Still breathing you in.
Your warm hands hold me tight,
Our breathing syncs together.
That gentle rise and fall,
Of your chest against mine.

When one learns of an atrocity committed past or present,
It is a feeling of such pain,

An ache within the soul.
If one believes in that sort of thing- a soul.

But one does not have to believe,
In anything of the kind,
To feel pain, to feel love for a complete stranger.

Separated by time and space,
It is through our own experiences and emotions,
We relate to others.

We imprint our own feelings,
On the experiences of others.

It is empathy, understanding, compassion,
That makes us human.

Let us not lose that, ever.

Ensconced in beauty,
Bathed in viridian light,
Robed in the peaceful slumber,
Of undisturbed sleep,
The pasture outside grows lush.
Peaceful on this autumn afternoon,
Is the breathing of a napping cat.
In sunlight through the library window,
Golden hues glint off her orange fur.
The only sound a gentle thrum,
Of purring contentedly in dreams.

A small boat sailing,
Drifting just off the shore.
The compass is failing,
No lighthouse on the moor.
Alone without starlight,
Waves rock her cradle,
Pulled by the moon kite,
A slender white ladle.
She struggles through the night,
Rudderless and fearful.
Will morning ever come,
Happily tearful?
Til then quietly hum,
A lullaby of old,
To calm the night inside,
And brighten the dark cold.
The ocean beckons wide,
Speaking of dawns elsewhere.