The sun sets.
I'm meditating with myself.
Silence now replaces
the hectic craze of the day.
I celebrate the change.

A flag droops limply.
It remembers, perhaps, when
it fluttered like a dagger in the heat.

My soul weary form slumps on a seat
and considers the ongoing tension
that seems to be the mark of existing.

From the window comes the
night sounds, eager to begin.
While overhead a daring moon
removes the sunshine trauma.

I surrender now.
I'm finished.
It's been a day, and a day again.
A ton of living to fill one up forever.

Tomorrow it might be just the same.
No matter.
The sun sets.
I'm meditating with myself.

The river runs slow today,
as do my thoughts.
Continents of ice collide and separate
over a grey green field of quiet water.
Snow falls at random.
Flakes swirl or streak as God wills.
As uncontrolled as my thoughts,
which drip around like scattered
pin holes in a lost and formless day.

I rage at self inflicted wounds.
Afflicted with terminal incompleteness.
I feel the cold of an empty being,
yet also the warm solitude of self.

I sense the labyrinth that leads to clarity
I reach for it, grasp for it, joyfully.

The river runs slow today,
as do my thoughts , thankfully.

I sense the touch of God
     when I pray my rosary.
His presence strong in
   the chanting of the words.
I know that He is here
       by the peace that I feel.

Words intoned so ancient,
            beautiful and serene.
Comforting me in
           ways I can not explain.
Through Mary to Jesus,
         my salvation ensured.

God provides solace
       to those who seek Him.
In the echoes of despair
     He brings me assurance
of blessings and hope
            which He restores.

So many moments
   lost in useless ventures.
So many times I
         tried to be supreme.
Only with God do I
   triumph in my dreams.

Heavenly Lord, Father,
    thank you for your words.
I pray my rosary in joy,
        loving every holy word.
May God, the Holy Trinity
        continue to be with me.

Brown eyes - waterfalls.
    Drips and drops of H2O.
Sad life - rain clouds.
    My oh my - the night is lonely.

Raindrops - glistening in the
      glow of the moon.
One man - walking,
      working out his
        contradictions.
Lone man - brown eyes.
     seeing into his
       own reality.

      My oh my - the night is lonely.
      My oh my - the night is sad.

Sleeping - he walks in
      night dreams.
Creating images of himself
     to present to the world.
Distance - endless wandering.
     What circles lie ahead
       for him to draw?
He walks in silence,
     remembering the sunshine
       that once filled the day.
Brown eyes - intently thinking,
     directing the energy
       he wants to have.

      My oh my - the night is lonely.
      My oh my - the night is sad.

I'm dying,
Feeling the comforting cloud of death
doing flip-flops through my strain.
Energy bursts are useless attempts
        at frosting flakes of panic and regrets.
Slipping.
Forgetting.
Curt instructions from a dangerous smile.

Cloud of death. Your mysterious tension
             caresses every
              blood-vein in my body.
My lungs restrict,
my lungs constrict.
Empty shallow boxes
      filled with the nothing of
          resistance.

Can’t anyone see? Does anybody know?

Does
    anybody
     have the
      slightest idea
       of just how
        tiresome
         paying
          attention
           can be?

So let me go. Leave me alone.
Let the fibres of believing unravel,
          slip apart
            like
             cracked glass
             about to
              shatter.
I'm hurting.
Disillusioned membranes zoning into silence.
The self-illusion so palpable and strong.

End. Stop. No more.

Unable to agree on a concession,
unable to meet eye to eye,
we squat on our
opposing buttocks
and hurl
insults at one
another.

The flowers grow,
all around, every Spring.
The warmth circles
and
lingers.
Even so, the algidity
has become us.
We are ever
so much
the products of
somebody's
drunken evening.

Air surrounds, and
though we inhale,
we manage still
to cross
no imaginary line.

I'm thinking.
You're thinking.

Yes, we will
leave one
another alone
one day; but
this is not that day.

I look past
you
and see
another you.
One that called
me friend.
I suppose that
for every
pleasant memory,
we'll now
spend our time
finding new
ways to abominate
one another.

Unable to agree on a concession,
unable to meet eye to eye,
we squat on our
opposing buttocks
and hurl
insults at one
another.

Ah, the new day displays
       such cascading colours.
Eternally fostering hopeful glances
in the direction
        of tomorrow.

We are victims to our needs
     which makes us greet
each day with sun-glassed eyes.

In trust, we burn our souls
        in ever-glowing flames
of socially acceptable conversations.

Ah, how easily we perform our
          mundane tasks.
Creating swirling metaphors
to disguise our lack of direction.

Pretending that the sunlight is
          our brilliant guide
to new avenues of pleasure.

We are yes and no at the same time.
Neither aware nor absent from
        our cups of steaming liquids.

In confusion, we solicit understanding
        from the telephones that never
cease ringing in the shallow
        shadows of our empty minds.

Ah, the new day displays
       such cascading colours.
Eternally fostering hopeful glances
in the direction
        of tomorrow.