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

Asleep
the sound of water rippling under the cold steel canoe
words from shore loss their meaning across the calm waters
propellers hum from miles off
with the heavy smoke there's no sight of land
cold wet uncomfortable and overwhelmed with peace

if as the sun sets
in the dead of night
it should stay on the other side
forever dark for a moment
and then forever light

would I be proud
of what I made
the life not lived
such beauty not seen
chasing something none want

your body burns with anger
and I don't disagree
it's too short
it's just too short
I am afraid

To busy to think
for better or worse
the pace only quickens
'til you write
the first verse

The cold
it has a way of reminding you to find someone to keep you warm

if this is it
i'm done

a paper bowl is trash
before thrown away
a porcelain bowl is art
before even made

if made by machine
it should be appreciated
if made by man
it should be cherished

the experience of the meal
is the most important part
to have a procalin bowl
is to always have something

A man with no fear no filter
catches you up to speed on his life story
tells you every detail he needs to
it only takes half a cigarette and neon light
to be the man without a fight

On a trail
you can not bail
Don't try to sail
you'll surely fail

Cold and tired
Just want to rest
Time gone like a bird
straight out of his nest

A dream more than dreamt
Not seen but felt
Feeling the purest joy
Unnatural almost
To be so unspoiled

With people loved
But faces unknown

If only
If only

A dream so pure
Makes the real so fake

If only
If only

The image now fading
But the feelings remaining

If only I could forget
That life
That perfect life

Birthed from the ordinary
By the master's hand

More than just binary
Made for a purpose

Wonders its own value
Willing to do more

Prized by the master
Precious in his eyes

Alone in a Crowd
A crowd of emotions
Of emotions not felt
Not felt till it's too late
Too late always too late

Here I worry about the hour
The hour that will come next

Beside me lay all my works
My works that void life's joy

Love is there but set aside
Aside from here aside from now