Compassion is the thread
that runs through most people
to let them know that we are all
cut from the same cloth

If you feel the earth breathing
through the ocean's briny tide
Sense a mountain watching
as you walk along it's side
Color the forest canopy
as it migrates through the seasons
Marvel at Nature's tantrums
and the mystery of her reasons
Float upon a silent stream
as it meanders through your soul
You know that there's no part of you
that is greater than the whole

Are we but homeless, threadbare waifs
yearning for our mothers
Searching for love
with a primordial hunger
in the darkness of "existential horror"?

Look at how they walk the street
with heavy hearts of stone
Victims of an unhappiness
that has crept into their bones

Now they step with a crooked gait
and usually alone
the sounds they make
are but life's complaints
disguised as grunts and groans

Many an unfinished project
began with the impractical
pursuit of perfection

Where is it?
That warm loving sun
to dry the tears
on the face of one
whose only sin
was daring to be happy

I want that picture
That picture of a young boy
standing proudly next to his father
That picture I lean on
when the world weighs heavy
That picture that when I'm confused
begs the question:
"What would Dad do?"
I want that picture
and yet I do not have it
and his death only serves to remind me
that I never will