like
a monk’s brilliant mosaic
of colored sand
inspired by God
and then gone
with the wave of his hand
art may capture one
of beauty’s glorious
but fleeting moments
and ease the pain
of its stubborn impermanence

Maybe happiness is gratitude
That I’m not anywhere but here
Completely in the moment
With little doubt or fear
Wearing a warm and gentle smile
That rides in with the wind
Asking the child I thought was gone
To come out and play again

As I rise
I do thee wake
A prayer I plead
I no longer ache

From the future’s curse
Of fret and worry
To the ache of regret
I have tried to bury

No more need to rule
No itch to conquer
All ledgers accounted for
By my tenure

As nothing obeys me
I have been so crowned
The King of Nothing
And to that I am bound

When I wake I wonder
What the day will bring
Will my heart run silent
Or will it choose to sing
Will I sense the tragic death
Of yet another day
Or feel enough true gratitude
To kneel to God and pray
Will I find the joie de vivre
To take life as it goes
Or see my reflection frowning
At the world and all its woes

Strolling through a field
In a Victorian gown
As if she were the model
For a painting well-known
As she spins a green parasol
In the Spring sun
Her hair breaking free
From the shape of a bun
Her little boy marvels
At the kaleidoscope sky
Basking in the presence
Of time floating by
There is peace in the world
On this blessed day
It blows through their souls
Pushing all clouds away

Dreams - the very marrow of hope
May be the lifeline to the living
Destroy one’s dreams
And the hate
Of their dead weight
May be unforgiving

Smashing dreams or smashing bones
It matters not
Both acts of ******
Stirred from the same ***

Perhaps, it is enough
To cope with the noise
Of one’s own random, undisciplined thoughts
Never mind the madness
Of others

For one
His own mountain
For one
His own stream
The peace
To wash over
The mind’s
Empty screams