I thank God for the little things
Like the smile of a child
The hope a new day can bring to a lost soul.
The feel of a warm fuzzy blanket on a cold winter's eve.

I thank God for the little things
Like being able to lend a helping hand
The smell of fresh cut pine on Christmas day.
The beauty of a sunrise shared by lovers.

I thank God for the little things.
Like moments of silence when time seems to stand still.
The sensation of crisp morning air gently caressing my cheek.
And how faith can guide us through the storm.

I thank God for the little things.
A smile or hello from a stranger
Kindness shown without any expectation of return
Love given even by a broken heart.

I thank God for the little things
The ability to see the beauty all around
To watch a bird soar through the sky
To accept blessings each day, hope and pray that they will never just pass you by.

For decades of pain have nailed it shut
Each heartbreak, each betrayal is represented by a nail driven so deep into
the wood of the window that it cracks.
Every tear shed is dripping like the morning dew slowly across the pane
The glass is thick yet fragile
The paint has all but faded away
To open it would take an army

A mass of males to move this mighty mountain
Yet you expect it to fly open so easily, with a gust of summer wind
For all the vulnerability left in me to be shed, open to all
Ripe for the picking
I wonder, is your window that easily opened, or is yours so guarded
that no one will ever even be able to view it or gaze into.

Over time you have been allowed to view the beauty and decay that exists on the other side.
Even got to slightly open for a moment
Do I even hope for the key to unlock it
To open it to the world
To open it to hurt
To seek the unknown ahead
I may never know, I may never be brave enough to even try

But its so sad to think, that it may have opened to you, and you alone
But fear made you flee
Never to see

At first a slow, meek wind begins to gently wisp through my hair
Caressing my skin, smoother than velvet, faster than light
Faster and wilder the wind begins to dance with the trees
Swaying to and fro
Lifting the leaves into a flowing sea of color
Clouds move in and blot out the sunlight
Darkness is moving freely into the land
Casting a cold shadow over all it passes
Lightning shoots through the shadow
Illuminating the world in a flash
Thunder shakes the ground
And opens the soul to a miracle of nature
Until finally a shower of cleansing rain pounds the earth
Rinsing away the dirt and sins of the day

Through the eyes of an artist the world is transformed into a magical place
Nothing is as it seems
The only limits are within a dream
But if their world becomes mundane, the darkness seeps in
Running like a hamster in a wheel
So fast, so hard but going nowhere
Every day chores start to cloud the mind
Mindless zombie moving through life
Reliving the same day over and over
The beauty and magic fades away
Work, Home, Sleep
Work, Home, Sleep
Stuck in the twilight zone of routine life
Slowly becoming blind to the mirage of wonder each place or experience may offer
Existing not Living
is a death sentence to an artist of any kind.

To the average eye or ear
The click clicking of my keyboard maybe dull or bland
But to a creative soul like mine it becomes a symphony.

As I sit and type
In my mind I am transported to a grand hall
Full of people and musicians
And as my hands glide gently over the keys
I become the composer

Fast and Slow
Loud and Soft
The sound echoes in my mind and through my heart

To find joy or even inspiration
In such a mundane task
Is truly the gift of writing and being
able to see small beautiful moments
in this world.

Woe is me.
Desperatley searching for a savior to rescue thee.
Patiently waiting for years upon years.
Days spent dreaming of who he may be.
Wandering aimlessly down empty streets.
Peeking around every corner hoping one day we shall meet.
Every stumble, every fall
My hand reaches up toward the heavens
Longing for a strong gentle hand to lift me from the hollow ground.
The tower in which my heart is locked away, reaches so high
no knight could possibly climb
My ballad of love falls on deaf ears
cursed by the evil queen desguised as hope
unable to wake
because true love's kiss
may not exist

At the end of a long dirt road
Hidden in a jungle of wild grass and weeds
There is a stone path encircling an ancient oak
Hugging and holding to her roots for dear life.

Forgotten stone that once held a purpose
Left to rot and decay
Once lead to a large regal home
Once lit by fireflies dancing in the warm summer breezes.

Walked on over the ages
By children, grandchildren, and friends
As time passed the home became abandoned and eventually burned to the ground.
But the stone path still remained.

A path to nowhere
So sad and lonely
All reason extinguished from present day
No longer useful
No longer pristine
No longer needed
Just existing
A part of a lost past, that will never be rebuilt