From spirit to echo,
From father to son,
I am neither, and both at once.
It is not my place to say,
That in the infinite expanse of life,
I mean anything.
Yet my father proclaims we are the world,
And everything.

He does so with quiet clarity,
Reveling with a drink in one hand.
Oh, what a sad and clairvoyant man.
He speaks of wisdom beyond his years,
Yet with the courage of several beers,
And who am I, to judge his choice,
When he so often represses voice?

A quiet dream should be celebrated, not killed.
And I fear that spark is all but dying,
So in the moments of his clarity,
I sit and I listen, for fear of denying destiny.
He speaks as I, once did, and so,
I consider his words as beautiful prose,
Of death, and dying, of breath, and life,
I ponder them all, as forgotten advice.

A lucky little moment, of wisdom to be saved,
Speaking solely to me, and my glory days,
Where tales were once written,
Of dinners and of guests,
And betrayals in order,
To sort out the rest.
That was the first one, I ever wrote,
A poem, like the Bible, to a girl of note.
Not of love, and cheesy, ****** lines,
But an allegory for Jesus, and the way that he died.

And I did this with passion,
No fear, and no doubt,
It was a wonderful creation,
That spontaneous spout.
Such wordplay and wisdom, inspired by love,
Is one thing, I’m missing,
With no memory of.

I don’t care for wants or needs,
Or winds, or trees,
For me, they just are,
And is that wrong?

I see myself as a spirit,
A force, for good, as of course,
We are here, and then gone,
By tomorrow’s end.

So before all of that,
I leave you good will,
Or as much as I can,
Dear friend.

But I feel I am bound,
By other’s weary chains,
And they hold me,
To something else.

I’m stuck on the ground,
With my head in the clouds,
Trapped inside,
An expectant shell.


But being me is freedom,
To think,
To travel, or wait and see,
As I care very little, for wants and needs.

To live so freely in a land of heaven,
Yet dawdle like children,
Begs the question,
“What am I doing here?”

In an age of convenience yet unmatched,
We find ourselves the ruling class,
With no purpose to unwind,
We simply wish to pass the time.

Yet promised land for us, is this,
That bright and shining place of bliss,
Of clouds and angels to call home,
For some of us too well known.

So what difference does it make,
If we should pass then just to wake,
To see this life painted new,
Still stuck inside a gilded room?

A poison spreads today,
From all the words which carry weight,
Spoken true or never heard,
We pay so much for every word,

Consider then the asking price,
Of lending ears or some advice,
Or open arms fit to embrace,
Forget the words and make a change.

That’s all it takes for most you see,
To shed the weight and become free,
But who am I to speak to you,
On things that I was forced to do?

From earth to sea I’ve seen it all,
But none compete with angel’s fall,
Such grace and beauty is unfair,
In mundane life I do declare.

From eyes to smile it is clear,
She’s worth the while and sincere,
But to attempt upon a heart,
Well how could I ever start?

A man of dreams and simple wants,
I have no means or wealth to flaunt,
But hope enough to wish it true,
To toughen up and see it through,

So I ask now in awkward haste,
In quiet, shy, and nervous state,
Will you accept this only chance,
Or reject a great romance?

To the weary one who travels alone,
Know that you are free,
Untethered by destiny,
Your choice is your own.
Your path may never be set,
But don’t ever forget who you are.
A traveler, a seeker, a curious heart,
Steps heavy in the dark,
Searching for a part you never found,
Scared you’ll amount to nothing,
Fumbling your way through,
One sunrise to the next.
But never forget,
You are the change and the unchecked.
Never forget this life is yours,
So before you get scared,
Remember no one was prepared for this life.
I promise we all find our place in time.

All the words on all the parchment,
All the love that this heart gives,
Was never enough for the one I love,
The girl I’m dreaming of never once cared for me,
And honestly I can’t blame her,
So I write this poem with a disclaimer,
I care too much for love.

From the day I met her I’ve been awe struck,
At the beauty, the laugh, the smile and the craft,
From arts to inks to prayers,
I’ve never seen a love so fair.
And I say this now in memory,
For the one I never told,
I’m sorry.

With every fiber of my being as my tears swell on the page,
I’m so sorry I didn’t say that I loved you,
At the time I didn’t know how much you meant,
So I let the moment slip away, but I want you to know,
Not a day goes by that I don’t try for yesterday.