I have come to the conclusion
that it is both unfair and unreasonable
to expect any one person
to be happy all of the time
and also to judge that discontent
as some sort of personal failure
How could it possibly be that simple?
May any sustained absence of one's happiness
lead to an enduring appreciation of it's return

I see a little boat
in a harbor
waiting to set sail
for the sea
It floats as prisoner
tied to the docks
waiting for it's chance to be free

But I have no view
of a harbor
and I do not live
by the sea
Yet, I'm haunted by visions
of this sad little boat
I sense it has a message for me

Does it want us
to sail off together
and throw caution to the wind for the day?
Is it enough of a boat
to keep us a float
or will we sink to the bottom of the bay?

Wind blows
through the carcass
of an old ship run ashore
It beckons her ghosts
to board once more
She's sad
and she's lonely
in a harbor of sand
and her decks need the company
of those old scurvy hands

All the air
blown between my ears
and all that's lost
from those crazy years
In the one
and out the other
Maybe it's better
that I didn't bother
to notice what was passing through

As I pour myself
another drink
I tell myself
not to think
of moving thoughts
from pen to paper
then suffer from
a reckless rapier

In a field
Of senoritas
Dancing in the sun
I saw their smiles
Among the sunflowers
Before their dance was done

Breath was what mattered
all the days since his birth
Now dressed in fine pine
and a suit of his worth
Slowly descending
into the soil's firth
For death be it only
what lies in the earth