Tiny blue ballerina
Dancing in a storm
Chaos all about her
As she tries to hold her form
The dreary sets seem out of place
And the music isn't right
The cellos have been fighting
With the flutes throughout the night
Remember tiny dancer
You are following your bliss
So, take that ever graceful bow
And blow the audience a kiss

I sincerely wish
I could blame the flesh
for the weakness of my mind
and in the end
I can depend
on the judgement to be so kind

Sometimes
I look at travel photos
And recognize myself in places
I know I have never been

Within the time-worn walls
Of an old European village
I hear strange but wonderful music
over the cacophony of conversation

I see myself in a cafe
Engaged in a debate about
Art, politics, or the contents of my glass
And I am again reminded
That man does not live by bread alone

There are those whose passions
Are never stirred more
Than through talk of ideology,
Religion , and war
They draw lines in the sand
And declare for their land
That transgressors be met
With the edge of a sword


They eat at the same table
Drink from the same trough
Shout out all the slogans
Wear the same cloth
They stand strong and tall
Behind a thick wall
Claiming God as their ally
Through the foam and the froth

Their numbers are many
These beggars of men
Ignoring compassion and reason
Again and again
Pray they drop their knees down
and abandon their frowns
Allowing God in their hearts
Where the devil has been

Tiny blue ballerina
Dancing in a storm
Chaos all about her
As she tries to hold her form
The dreary sets seem out of place
And the music isn't right
The cellos have been fighting
With flutes all blasted night
Remember tiny dancer
You are following your bliss
So, take that ever graceful bow
And blow the audience a kiss

It was through
But a single reed
That I held up in my hand

My eyes took aim
At the winter sky
As I walked through chilly sand

And for a time
I felt as though
The sun was smiling at me

It lit my way
The rest of the day
Before it hid behind the sea

Alone amidst the hurried throngs
That move along a street
He’s the statue in a crowded square
Who chose to still his feet
Hoping for a cathartic tear
To mend his fear and pity
He watches all the desperate dots
Looking for the ‘I’ in city