Light, dancing wildly
Spectrums of colour, of creation
I look at my reflection
Against the cool glass
my breath staining it like frost
Sometimes I am transparent
like this mirror, like this cold air
and still, I look into myself
the crushing weight of the world
making the glass pulse
and my pulse, shatter
My emotions bleed out onto a wood frame
seeping through and taking shape
Turbulent, uncertain, blazing, brilliant
Is this me?
My inner turmoil made flesh
inside this glass tomb

I am, as I have always been,
On the wrong side of the mirror.

and rustled the paper
and went straight to
the sports section and the
box scores where statistics can be
compared relative across generations
completely missed the obituaries
the Editorials
the Advertisements
because
Batting Averages Yards Gained
Touchdowns Home Runs
Saves
are comparative back through centuries,
Editorials and ads are slanted.

You are Special, you have been through a lot.
Yet here you still stand, suffering but determine.
To stand fast, waiting for something to happen.
Bringing renewal Joy into your hurting life.
Even while being rejected, you are still strong.
So use your  pain and suffering to reach out.
To those whom lost all of their strength here.
Become a life line to them love them into Joy.
For I understand that we need to never give up on anyone.
We need to keep on loving everyone on the earth.

“Unfortunately, you never really hate anyone as much as someone you cared about once.”

I was watering the vegetable garden , a rainbow appeared where the stream divided , a thousand individual prisms colorfully disseminated , fell to the ground
The humidity screamed for absolution on a calm , cloudless Dog Day of Summer ,  the supplication , denied ! Falling upon deaf ears ..
Front porch rocking chairs , ceiling fans strain under the fiery siege of August, fly strips gently sway beneath their mediocre output ..
Popsicle sticks and Orange Crush bottles are covered in ants , Guinea wasp light upon the window screens , children laugh in the distance
Jonesboro was under fire , continuous cloud to ground lightning
Stockbridge laid under the gun , preparing for the onslaught , clothes lines in need of attention , garbage cans , hanging baskets and welcome mats brought indoors !
If it's raining over my house , it's most assuredly raining all over the world .
The steam poured off the blacktop later that night , a future storm over someone else tomorrow ? The burden of streetlight apparent , consumed in the difficulty of night , I am in recognition of such plight !
My star struggles to find its place , tears recycle into storm drains , transpire , flood defenseless habitats such as mine !
Five o'clock in the morning , ceiling fans work their magic for now !
Crepuscular wildlife , a chemically afflicted depressive replays his familiar lot in life ...

What made someone fall in love with you is often what made them fall out of love with you.