Oh thou crook soul,
that follow the hook,
slow fall of a hat stand,
morals that fly the second oath,
not the first.
Winding, winding winds that fall,
whirlpools of social speech,
modern-day morals burn
they drift like smoke.

Where did thou truth disappear?
Once life as clear as reflect,
in the mirror self distort.
Now the mirror warped,
the soul reflect bitter, unwhole,
crumbs of bread fallen in dust.

We chest because we chest,
we take because we taken.
Lips move while teeth shine,
eyes glisten with words unspoken
dishonest truths flood the world.

Lights shine dim upon us
in a sky of full stars.
We call to the abyss:
“Tell me what thou think,
tell me what thou see.”
But the abyss sendeth back null
crooked sentiments,
words of meaning less,
oh world of empty actions,
all we know.

Truth what now, what is it?
Desire of a fool
In skies grown dark with shade.
Hollow words with double edge,
obscurity the wine we drink.
Sound that moves the leaf
frail, ambiguous.

Where did it turn and change?
Where did we need to decide,
decode what is, what isn’t,
what was, what wasn’t,
what will be, what might be?

Crooked sun, crooked moon,
we follow to thy crooked tune.
Where did goodness seep?
Where does truth now sleep?

O woes, the world become
crooked and dishonest
beneath morning sun.
Nightfall doth fall on waning moon,
and words once sung now sing askew,
a broken tune.

Every day is a struggle
I struggle to wake, to rise from bed,
To speak the thoughts that crowd my head.
I struggle to find hope on a warm summer day,
I struggle when the bright blue sky turns to gray.

I struggle just to survive,
A struggle in every minute, a struggle to stay alive.
I struggle to fit into these old jeans,
To lace the worn shoes of forgotten dreams.
I struggle to digest breakfast,
To trust the news that floods my mind.
I struggle to make ends meat,
While prices climb higher each day i find.
I struggle to accept that life passes here,
That moments I hold vanish too soon oh dear.

Oh, dear friend the struggle is real
The struggle to be me, the struggle to feel.
I walk this broken path,
Through fleeting moments that drift and some last.
I struggle to accept the now and future and past
I struggle to accept the choices not mine,
To taste joy while wealth remains to some like fine wine.

I struggle to believe in a God unseen,
To trust in a book, or the apple from the tree green.
I struggle to envision pearly golden gates,
To fear or not the fire that waits.
I struggle to believe that good conquers all,
When the rich rise higher and the poor scrape thin through it all.

I struggle to understand the birds and bees,
Why we cut down forests and poison the seas.
I struggle to believe in people like me,
In a world designed to cheat and deceive.
I struggle to find truth among daily lies,
To find life while the world chases my demise.

I struggle to accept love,
When loneliness has been my only friend.
I struggle to believe in forever,
When each day comes to a bitter end.

Oh, these struggles and struggles they drive me mad,
Each harsh reality leaves me broken and  sad.
In a world that should be simple, open and free,
I struggle, I struggle, just to be me.

There are moments
I hold my breath to hear your silence,
reach through the yonder glare,
to feel you again.

Moments I sit on the sand-filled ledge,
where the sea pulls secrets, edge by edge.
Silver lining collapsing evening hue
in this fading light, I think of you.

Solemn shoreline loosens grip on soul,
while sand and shell give way,
seas take control.
I breathe deep, then slowly exhale,
watching the waning sky,
along horizon’s trail.

Minutes pass, the moment holds,
I watch the waters drift and fold.
Eyes lift upward to the sun,
counting moon-steps, one by one.
Waving farewell to passing day,
tomorrow rises, stars convey
something moving, old made new,
something time cannot undo.

Golden sunken horizon thins to seam,
gull-songs stitch the dark into dream.
You cradle dawn within your hand,
porcelain shadow where you stand.

A cup rimmed gold, this truth you knew,
hairline crack in evening dew.
Like a promise rescued, kept from frost,
the siren sings until we’re lost.

Steam drifts from sunset’s glass,
hesitant a comets pass.
And in that tremor, moment stays,
you see the shaping of new days:
a map of soft returns to me,
an address painted what will be.
In the backwash of the tide,
to the distance, dreams confide.

Set down the moth-eaten doubts,
set down the worn coat and withouts.
Clinging still to shoulder bare
what is left but starlight’s stare?

Let the wind unbutton past,
let the waves wash slow, not last.
Footprints fade though memory’s true,
and you, my constant time can’t undo.

Both hands cupped around this hope,
lean forward, breathe the words I wrote.
Sip the future fractured, warm,
burnished bright through autumn’s form.
Grateful though the day is done,
we walk beneath a dying sun.

Cherry blossoms gilded dusk,
petals fall like lanterns brushed.
Starlight filters crooked boughs,
a silver lattice, vow by vow.

Still you keep the cup on sill,
not for heat, but crescent fill
that tiny wound where gold lets in,
that secret place the light begins.

The room remembers waiting still,
the hush recalls your name at will.
A shadow sways with lamp’s soft tide,
not gone, not lost just thinner, wide.

And on page twenty-two you see,
your hand once wrote: “Bring life to me.”
Ink is faint, but heartbeat beats,
a steady drum that never sleeps.

We did not shatter.
We unspooled.
Like thread along the ocean’s ruled,
pulled soft, pulled long by each returning wave, still tethered by the love we gave.

Some nights you wear that strand to bed,
an armor woven where longing bled.
You dream the ritual, cup held high,
sip taken slow beneath the sky.

And dawn stranger though it seems
passes through like tide in our dreams.
Gentle, certain, shadows bright,
readying the world
for one more light.

Carry on
with all your talking,
my superpower is deafness,
your words are pointless squawking.
So just keep walking.

I won’t bend,
your noise means less,
I rise above
your emptiness.
The more you shout,
the less I hear,
your fading voice
just disappears.

O child of dust, yet seed of flame,
the world you walk is woven of chain,
shadows that rise, dissolve, and die,
mirrors of what you cannot deny.

The Soul is a battlefield:
one wing strains toward the upward sky,
the other, chained, clings to earth’s mire and lie.
Strife is your birthright;
until Spirit conquers Flesh,
only then can we truly matter and be refreshed.

Be pious, O child,
for gratitude is wisdom’s crown.
Thanks is the key that keeps us on ground;
without it, no soul can reach the height
where Truth stands still,
serene, eternal light.

All bodies break,
but essence never bends.
All that is sown must perish,
yet what is born of the One never ends.

Know this:
to love the body is to drift in darkness;
to know the Source is to fly beyond death.
For every soul is double,
half a prisoner of time,
half a citizen of eternity,
and life is the test.

Therefore lift your eyes,
learn the order of things,
and remember:
Life and Light divine brings,
and you are its likeness
in this truth, we still sing.

Return, child,
not as flesh, but as flame,
all part of the mystery;
it’s all part of life’s game.