guilt comes when the sun sets
when night comes

then the morning comes
and there aren't any interesting stories to tell

waiting for good to come
or just for the bad to end

I'm worried I'm not worried

is this not the time to be?

now I'm worried

Rain perfectly strewn
upon the window
by light of the moon
will it flow

To be near the arts
able to hear the pianist
the notes of the Quire
flow through the halls
creative works on the walls
a sorrowful peace

lushes earth bearing ancient red pine
powerful mossen stone baked in sunlight
in the distance snowmelt rushing down the mountain
but takes its time returning home
the neverending creation
to walk in such pure natural beauty is to walk with God

Fear
I own Nothing
I have it so it's mine
don't take them from me
Loathe life
till you see death
it reminds you to be afraid
and you are afraid
till the image fades
till shadows don't scare
until you expect tomorrow
and when it doesn't come
you curse its name

I am afraid
that ill forget to be afraid
and waste time

Time is a gift from God
are we so blind to say that it is ours to give to Him
are we So deaf that we can not even feel the earth split under our feet

A man is born and given life
and yet still needs a sign