The rusty orange color
spotted with browns
clinging to life,
floating gently to the ground

wrinkled and crinkled
the leaf feels like leather
slowly it's dying
it's only the weather

such a lonely time of year;
the trees without leaves
they dry up and shrivel
being blown 'round my feet

as I watch them dancing
in the sharp cold breeze,
stinging my cheeks
and shaking my knees.

Pumpkin seed scent;
the smell of Fall
sprinkled sunlight
splashes them all.

yellows, reds and purples
the colors of their death,
so beautiful to our eyes
but to our hearts, maybe not yet.

Salt-filled air bites at the senses
as water from above and below
intertwine,
woven together in intense immersion
with an imminent addition
to the ocean's continuing collection of structures,
made of the forests' dead,
and interlacing spines from branches,
given no chance to grow.

Now only to be resting miles below their home,
standing meekly against the current of the deep.

Saturated skies echo sadness from the sea,
while man's eye only grazed
upon the shore
before remorseless waters' waves
tumble and lure to underwater graves.

The sharp cold of the evening sky's drizzle
dissipates the day's warmth.
The sun recedes beyond,
sinking beneath the bottom of the sky,
and leaves the scene at peace
as if no one were ever there.

For a time I let the wind decide,
Which seeds would land and where they'd hide.
A tangled garden, wild and free,
With blossoms grown for company.
I poured my water, bit by bit,
On thirsty roots that didn't fit,
And watched the sunbeams of my days
Bend to another's wilting ways.
​
oh I have found the thread of gold,
A map that only I can read.
The old story has grown cold,
I am the sower of my seed.
I'll plant my moonflowers and my ferns,
In soil that tenderly returns.
This garden is for me alone,
The wildest place I've ever known.
​
My nature is a running stream,
A crystal-clear and giving dream.
But now my banks are fortified,
No longer will my flow be dried
By fields that only drink and take,
To soothe their own unending ache.
My currents turn to greet the light,
To nurture what is true and right.
​
oh I have found the thread of gold,
A map that only I can read.
The old story has grown cold,
I am the sower of my seed.
I'll plant my moonflowers and my ferns,
In soil that tenderly returns.
This garden is for me alone,
The wildest place I've ever known.
​
My soul is not a borrowed cup,
To be filled up and poured right out.
It is a wellspring bubbling up,
With stars and whispers, chasing doubt.
The giving is a sacred grace,
For kindred gardens in their place.
​
oh I have found the thread of gold,
A map that only I can read.
The old story has grown cold,
I am the sower of my seed.
I'll plant my moonflowers and my ferns,
In soil that tenderly returns.
This garden is for me alone,
The wildest place I've ever known.

The shattered tree's remains
now frame the path from which it came,
dampened in the warm, evening rain,
guiding the lonesome to self-blame.

Desperately, its pleading begins,
hopelessly yearning for soul sustenance.
It finds solace in expressing its pain,
and all those near fear its immense strain.

Its earthen skin groans,
bearing cracks in its bones,
weary cries now silent,
yet its strength has overgrown.

In its roots, it takes hold
to reconcile what it’s forsaking,
an effort painful, uncontrolled,
as it gives what it can't be retaking.

Its eyes are now dulled
where they once had a glow,
pathetic reflections unfold
in the place of its soul.

And smoke swirls in the cavity
where the flames once warmed,
replaced by fiery, stinging swarms,
creating turmoil in its depravity.

Wounds young and sweltry,
the blood flow sustains,
no vestige of remedy,
enduring the pain.

Like a mangled, broken ship at sea
into terrorizing waves of atrophy,
embracing water, drowning,
sinking, it helplessly flounders.

Never ceasing,
waves increasing
breath releasing,
mind's eye teasing.

Waters rise,
anticipating,
whispered cries,
suffocating,
painfully asphyxiating...

It lets go, floats towards the coursing,
waving, crashing surface,
aching for air.

Choppy waters, throwing,
forcing to and fro,
it fiercely presses on
and hears the thunder.

Lightning cracks through air and sky,
the bright light lingers in its eyes,
the thunder mutes all other sounds,
its inner storm seems to subside.

The thunder rolls to the horizon,
and the rain lifts to gentle patters,
the mangled, tattered tree has softened,
what once ravaged no longer matters.

Peace within and peace without,
forgiveness given, boundless grace.
Its world is light and free again,
though it knows there's more it has to face.

For now, a lightness' been endowed,
it dances with joy and loves out loud.
It knows the storms will always come,
but through them all, who it'll become
is worth the ravaged, aching pain,
and comes out stronger, wiser, and changed.

Wandering from what once seemed right,
into what I now consider reality.
Happiness is miles from this place,
and my heart is even further.
Yet I can't be convinced to return,
not sure I know the way back anyway.

From this point, I must keep wandering,
leaving, hurting, fearing,
weaving, turning, steering,
leading, finding, nearing.

The place I'll be welcomed,
where happiness is waiting,
where my heart has been guiding,
the journey, now defining
who I've become.

I wish for the ability to see through eyes of passion
looking inward
where it can be as warm and fragrant as spring
when the air is heavy
and the birds share secrets
not meant for me to know.

And it can be as desolate
as the city's midnight sky
when the clouds seem to sink into heaven's underground.

How beautiful is this?
Granting me the pleasure of the imaginary.
But still I can't keep from wondering...

How beautiful is poetry
when words are pebbles in your shoes?

How beautiful is freedom
when held in the hands of the clock tower?

How beautiful is peace
when it slips your grasp like the streams' fish?

The answer lies in how we allow our eyes to see,
whether it be our mind, our heart, or our soul.

The hard part is knowing the difference.

The skies above me falling down
No place to go to escape from it
Sometimes I wish it would just go away from my life
I’m lying out under the clouds
I’m sleeping through all my precious time
I used to waste my time dreaming of leaving this place
(Now I only waste it dreaming of home)

Chorus:

Turn upside-down and turn down the sky
All of the clouds rain the tears that I cry
And all the pain that fills me up will go away
Like the snow in the spring

The skies above me falling down
No place to go to escape from it
I used to waste my time on…
Waste my time on…
Waste my time dreaming of leaving this place
(Now I only waste it dreaming of home)

(Chorus)

I’ve got nightmares
While moonlight shines through my open window
I’ve got nightmares
While moonlight shines through my open window
I lay awake
The skies above me falling down

(Chorus)

Through troubled times of struggle, hearts were muddled, I'd dissemble,
I'd drop your hand, chest buckles, you withstand and reassemble,
you've restored so many times what I've tore down, disassembled...
you understand my loss, first hand, "I love you", your lips trembled.

Though record shows my deeds forgo your love, you're more than gentle,
refused the bounds of apprehension, tension disassembled,
unleashed affection, your devotion, yet emotions tremble,
there's something uncontrolled, it has a hold within, it's mental.

Your intuition, my acts of indecision, temperamental,
propriety, on my behalf, falls way short of monumental.
Your heart permits my love, undeserving, unconditional,
though reservations pull back elation, unpredictable.

I promise you my heart, my spirit, it's unequivocal,
you complete the parts of me I thought were integral.
Burdens, troubles, tension, dissension, all now invisible,
all replaced by exuberance I once thought was mythical.

Trepidation, dread, fixation on perceived forged fictionals,
bring forth false truths expected to be unpredictable.
Look forward, opened heart and eyes, keep close what's fundamental,
I understand your fear, first hand, "I love you", my lips tremble.

You keep pushing me.
You know I'm already so close to the edge.
I can only be pushed so far before I fall,
And maybe that's what you want.
Maybe you want me to fall,
To lie bleeding
and die
on the jagged rocks below.
Maybe that's dramatic.

Or maybe you don't want me to fall,
Just to be so very close to the edge
so you can rescue me.
Maybe you want to go back
to when our love existed—
if you can even call it that.
But I won't go back.

We had nothing but meaningless words
and lying hearts.
Something was always there,
around us,
inside us,
above us—
looking down,
unintentionally destroying us,
maybe like you are now.
Maybe you don't know I'm so close to the edge,
about to fall,
to lie on the jagged rocks
and bleed because you pushed me a little too far.

The shattered tree's remains
now frame the path from which it came,
dampened in the warm, evening rain,
guiding the lonesome to self-blame.

Desperately, its pleading begins,
hopelessly yearning for soul sustenance.
It finds solace in expressing its pain,
and all those near fear its immense strain.

Its earthen skin groans,
bearing cracks in its bones,
weary cries now silent,
yet its strength has overgrown.

In its roots, it takes hold
to reconcile what it’s forsaking,
an effort painful, uncontrolled,
as it gives what it can't be retaking.

Its eyes are now dulled
where they once had a glow,
pathetic reflections unfold
in the place of its soul.

And smoke swirls in the cavity
where the flames once warmed,
replaced by fiery, stinging swarms,
creating turmoil in its depravity.

Wounds young and sweltry,
the blood flow sustains,
no vestige of remedy,
enduring the pain.

Like a mangled, broken ship at sea
into terrorizing waves of atrophy,
embracing water, drowning,
sinking, it helplessly flounders.

Never ceasing,
waves increasing
breath releasing,
mind's eye teasing.

Waters rise,
anticipating,
whispered cries,
suffocating,
painfully asphyxiating...

It lets go, floats towards the coursing,
waving, crashing surface,
aching for air.

Choppy waters, throwing,
forcing to and fro,
it fiercely presses on
and hears the thunder.

Lightning cracks through air and sky,
the bright light lingers in its eyes,
the thunder mutes all other sounds,
its inner storm seems to subside.

The thunder rolls to the horizon,
and the rain lifts to gentle patters,
the mangled, tattered tree has softened,
what once ravaged no longer matters.

Peace within and peace without,
forgiveness given, boundless grace.
Its world is light and free again,
though it knows there's more it has to face.

For now, a lightness' been endowed,
it dances with joy and loves out loud.
It knows the storms will always come,
but through them all, who it'll become
is worth the ravaged, aching pain,
and comes out stronger, wiser, and changed.

The soft sky spills a misty gray,
No easy place to hide away.
I used to chase a fading ray,
Hoping for a brighter day.

And I find my home, not in the ground,
But in the quiet space I've found.
The storms may rage, the winds may sigh,
But peace within begins to fly.

I wandered on, a quiet soul,
Wishing for a peaceful sign.
A gentle harbor to make whole
This restless heart of mine.

And I find my home, not in the ground,
But in the quiet space I've found.
The storms may rage, the winds may sigh,
But peace within begins to fly.

The moonlight paints the walls so pale,
As shadows dance and softly blend.
No longer caught in sorrow's veil,
My home's a quiet, inner friend.

And I find my home, not in the ground,
But in the quiet space I've found.
The storms may rage, the winds may sigh,
But peace within begins to fly.

Through winding paths where shadows used to play,
I walked through hardship, learning on the way.
Each mark a lesson, etched within my soul,
From moments broken, now I'm feeling whole.
And in the dust, a new strength took its hold,
A vibrant story, bravely to unfold.

Oh, I am ready for a brighter day,
weaving meaning through each memory,
Oh, I've tread through the darkest times,
and now I stand and forge my way.

The quiet whispers of the road I've seen,
Of heavy burdens, where my spirit's been.
But through the struggles, a truer self grew bright,
From scattered pieces, stepping into light.
The wisdom gained, a comfort understood,
From every challenge, something truly good.

Oh, I am ready for a brighter day,
weaving meaning through each memory,
Oh, I've tread through the darkest times,
and now I stand and forge my way.

No longer tied to what has come and gone,
I find my rhythm, greeting a new dawn.
The future calls me, open, clear, and wide,
A field of dreams, with nowhere left to hide.
With open heart, I step into the sun,
Embracing all the good that's now begun.

Oh, I am ready for a brighter day,
weaving meaning through each memory,
Oh, I've tread through the darkest times,
and now I stand and forge my way.

So let the music of my journey rise,
A hopeful song beneath these open skies.
Each morning light, a promise I embrace,
A brand new chapter, finding its own space.

Oh, I am ready for a brighter day,
weaving meaning through each memory,
Oh, I've tread through the darkest times,
and now I stand and forge my way.

Oh, I am ready for a brighter day,
weaving meaning through each memory,
Oh, I've tread through the darkest times,
and now I stand and forge my way.

And with each breath, a thankful heart I find,
For all the blessings, leaving doubts behind.

Oh, I am ready for a brighter day,
weaving meaning through each memory,
Oh, I've tread through the darkest times,
and now I stand and forge my way.

In shadows I linger in the sand
Beneath the only stone unturned
A swirling compass in my hand
I witness the world around me turn

Reels repeat behind my eyes
Playing memories of simpler times
When days were long and nights were few
When dreaming brought me worlds, anew

I've been plucking these feathers
Pruning these wings
Believing that shedding will let me fly free

I've been pulling this anchor
Through bedrock and reeds
Fearing that lifting it would lose me at sea

In murky tides, I drift over ocean floor
Beneath the turning and tumbling waves,
A broken beacon in my hand
As current pulls me to my grave

I've been plucking these feathers
Pruning these wings
Believing that shedding will let me fly free

I've been pulling this anchor
Through bedrock and reeds
Fearing that lifting it would lose me at sea

A hollow echo in my core,
Where vibrant dreams had lived before.
I wandered paths that weren't my own,
A solitary seed, unsown.

The mirror showed a stranger's face,
Lost in a disorienting space.
Each passing day, a muted hue,
My own true compass, out of view.

Oh, the distance I had strayed,
Behind a curtain, soft and deep,
From the truest self displayed,
Secrets my weary spirit keep.

I wore a guise, a borrowed skin,
To navigate the world within.
But whispers rose, a gentle plea,
To shed the false and finally be.

A quiet stirring took its hold,
A buried story to unfold.
I felt the truth begin to rise,
And clarity unveiled my eyes.

Oh, the distance I had strayed,
Down roads that weren't aligned with me,
From the self that brightly played,
Yearning for authenticity.

The walls within begin to mend,
A fragile strength starts to ascend.
No need to hide, no need to feign,
Embracing who I am again.

The wellspring of my soul revives,
Where true desire now survives.
I see my future, clear and bright,
Rediscovered in my own inner light.

Oh, the distance I had strayed,
Where buried truths began to sleep,
From the self that light conveyed,

Oh, the distance I had strayed,
Down roads that weren't aligned with me,
From the self that brightly played,
Yearning for authenticity.

No need to hide, no need to feign,
Embracing who I am again.

The world keeps turning, a quiet plea,
A soft voice asking, "What will I be?"
From early morning, a gentle, new start,
To evening's quiet, a settling heart.
The flower opens, soft and green,
Then turns to dust, while we are fast asleep.

We rise and fall, like waves in the sea,
A blink of the eye, and no longer seen.
I look for wisdom in the birds that fly,
Making their patterns in the open sky.
Do they remember all the days they've known?

Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.

The winds that pushed them, and the seeds they've sown?
This fragile body, this breath, this steady beat,
A short, sweet dance, with joy and sorrow meet.

Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.

Our laughter echoes, then it fades away,
A silent question, born of every day.
We wish for things that stay the same,
But even beauty fades away.

We chase the quiet, want the river still,
But pages turn against our will.
We search for answers, to see and to know,
While nature whispers as the seasons go.

Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.

This great big plan, this woven tapestry,
Where does it lead, and what does it mean?
The answer isn't in the final days,
But in the years that we lost our way.

Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.

Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.

The answer isn't in the final days,
But in the years that we lost our way.

I long to see, with clearer sight,
Through eyes that burn with passion's light.
Looking within, a sacred space,
Where spring's own warmth leaves a sweet trace.
The air grows heavy, soft and low,
And birds share secrets I don't know.
Their whispered stories, not for me,
Lost to my yearning, wild and free.

Oh, how beautiful is poetry,
When words are pebbles in my shoe?
Oh, how beautiful is freedom,
When held tight within the hands of time?
Oh, how beautiful is quiet peace,
When it slips my grasp like a fish in the stream?

And sometimes it's a desolate view,
Like midnight city, stark and blue.
The clouds descend, a mournful grace,
Sinking to heaven's underground place.

This beautiful gift, imaginary flight,
A solace in the fading light.
But still, the question lingers on,
Until the breaking of the dawn...

Oh, how beautiful is poetry,
When words are pebbles in my shoe?
Oh, how beautiful is freedom,
When held tight within the hands of time?
Oh, how beautiful is quiet peace,
When it slips my grasp like a fish in the stream?

The answer lies in how we learn to gaze,
Through mind's eye, heart's truth, in countless ways.
Our soul's deep wisdom, shining bright,
To guide our path throughout the night.

Oh, how beautiful is poetry,
When words are pebbles in my shoe?
Oh, how beautiful is freedom,
When held tight within the hands of time?
Oh, how beautiful is quiet peace,
When it slips my grasp like a fish in the stream?

But discerning the path, that's the key,
To know the difference, now to see.
The gentle answer, softly spoken,
A silent promise, never broken.

From deepest dark, where shadows clung like night,
A siren's heart, in sorrow's undertow, took flight.
Woven in currents of a bygone grief's deep,
A pearl of self, long lost, beyond sleep.
The ocean's floor, a tapestry of woe,
Held captive echoes, in a mournful flow.
My coral bones, they ached with memory's sting,
A wounded creature, unable to sing.

Rising from the depths, a new day dawning,
The shadow breaks, no more in mourning.
I found my voice where the waves now sing,
A mermaid's song, my new beginning.

But whispers rose, on salty breeze,
Of sunlit crests, where weary souls are freed.
A budding courage stirred within the night,
A blooming strength, ascending into light.
I felt the pull of tides I'd long denied,
A yearning essence, to be glorified.
The chains of anguish, barnacled and cold,
Began to loosen, as a new tale could unfold.

Rising from the depths, a new day dawning,
The shadow breaks, no more in mourning.
I found my voice where the waves now sing,
A mermaid's song, my new beginning.

I shed the scales of sorrow, pearlescent tears descend,
A liberation's current, where wounded souls ascend.
Emerging from the depths, a creature born anew,
My authentic cadence, ringing strong and true.
No longer bound by shadows, or the ocean's heavy sway,
I rise, a shimmering vision, at the break of day.

Rising from the depths, a new day dawning,
The shadow breaks, no more in mourning.
I found my voice where the waves now sing,
A mermaid's song, my new beginning.

My voice, once muted, now a crystal tone,
Reflecting starlight, making my spirit known.
The ocean's secrets, whispered on the air,
Reveal the strength that banishes despair.
Each ripple carries fragments from the past,
Released like seafoam, fading fast.
My spirit stretches, like a sunbeam on the waves,
No longer captive in watery graves.

Rising from the depths, a new day dawning,
The shadow breaks, no more in mourning.
I found my voice where the waves now sing,
A mermaid's song, my new beginning.

I shed the scales of sorrow, pearlescent tears descend,
A liberation's current, where wounded souls ascend.
Emerging from the depths, a creature born anew,
My authentic cadence, ringing strong and true.
No longer bound by shadows, or the ocean's heavy sway,
I rise, a shimmering vision, at the break of day.

The sea remembers, but it does not keep,
It offers solace, secrets buried deep.
And in its vastness, I have found my sight,
To greet the dawn, and walk into the light.

With fins of moonlight, and a heart unfurled,
My truest self, I give to the world.
The ocean whispers, "Go, and be true,"
A mermaid singing, the story of you.

Rising from the depths, a new day dawning,
The shadow breaks, no more in mourning.
I found my voice where the waves now sing,
A mermaid's song, my new beginning.