capturing all the moths in your butterfly net
or so they say
but there is nothing wrong with being a moth
unafraid of living a life inside-out
unlike the people who jeer at you from the other side of the cage
you are not ready to find out if it’s you that is trapped
maybe we all step into the lava that the kids try to avoid
as they jump onto the couch
are you an adult now?

Child of mine please know

All things have a season

All things have a time

If stars can fall, then crash and burn

Humans fight and fail to learn

Then time has nought to teach

The blind will never learn to see

And the deaf will fail to hear

Even mighty rivers run dry

And seas can also die

Today

my heart stopped beating

But time has taught me this...

Love is where you find it

Follow joy wherever you can

Hope can spring eternal

Fellowship remains in man

Isn't every life
                 Fragile?
Isn't all love
                  Fragile?
Aren't we all
                  Fragile?

And as we're all
                  Fragile,
If hope is so
                  Fragile,
Then how do we
                Survive?

If I had something inspiring on my mind don't you think that I would've written it by now
I love being a writer but sometimes it gets me down
The pressure escalates like the water in the everglades to top myself, like pulling miracles out of my head is a miraculous act
I can't turn water into wine And I can't turn stacks of hay into clever punchlines
I guess what I'm trying to say, like Dr. Mccoy  is that I'm a writer not a magician
I can only take what myself and others have gone through, and turn it into something relatable, that maybe just maybe someone will take something positive out of what was written

I am a fool,
prince or pauper
standing proper
in time.

I remember my place
how this current season tastes,
sounds, and feels
but forget how it will
end.

In spring I think
The flowers will bloom
eternally.
It never occurs to me
that Summer will be
right around the corner.

In summer I expect to sweat
get a buzz cut because
I hate hot hair
not thinking
time’s shrinking
will see me sinking in
to summers end
where fall begins.

Fall finds me believing
I will see leaves fleeing
Still falling from bare trees
that sit squarely
before me
though obviously empty.

Winter is a desert.
Nothing warm;
Just cold storms
that make me shiver
forgetting the past
and the future.
I only feel the frigid present.

I never think about or see
the seasonal transitioning.
I only know the now.