I will look back the on past,
reminiscence for awhile,
on things that cannot exist,
feeling the splints and casts I had as a child.

I'll prepare for the future,
for a loving wife and a child,
to which I am lovingly indentured,
for all of my life,
doing so with a smile.

I'll clear my mind,
and think of the present,
I'll dream good dreams,
and care not of my sutures,
this is all I can do,
moving forward to the future.

Life is no destination,
life is line,
stretching back and forth,
spun together with time.

Eternal is our pathway,
this trial only a point,
our own little struggle,
the pain in our joints.

This path is ours alone to walk,
each step getting lighter,
towards whatever end,
to which we might meet,
for humans are frail creatures,
and our spirits are meek.

Childhood friend,
comic(al) book hero,
humor in everything you do,
what happened?

Onset of adolescence,
hanging out in the backyard,
ultimate frisbee,
no thought for coming days.

Hours spent,
how content were we,
wasting away time like it grows on trees,
finite is time.

Then came marijuana,
there goes motivation,
don't let the door hit you on the way out,
look at how much fun you're having.

Controversy,
law in and law out,
a little different,
but more of the same.

Still the same kid lies somewhere inside,
suffocating under cloud and flame,
no negative consequences,
yea right,
I'm not so easily convinced.

Warm and healthy humor gone,
only morbid and ****** jokes remain,
silliness slept safe at night,
and in crept the pain of adulthood,
knife in hand.

Time heals all wounds,
looking glass,
kaleidoscope,
maybe you'll stop conforming someday,
au revoir mon ami.

My favorite recipe,
mix laughter with wit,
laughter without awareness,
mix them together and great is what you get.

Glances shared,
laughter ensues,
no one is any wiser,
the childish becomes elegant.

What is humor,
the quality of being amusing or comic,
esp. as expressed in literature or speech,
wrong,
it's a contradiction between comrades.

Laughter shouldn't require effort,
a glance,
a wink,
a smile,
send you back,
nostalgia,
a reference to another day,
brighter or darker alike.

A friend taught me this lesson,
we met as children,
and still chuckle as men,
and so my hat off to him.

All kinds of people,
what you'll find in life,
some are chasing steeples,
some chasing intellectual might,
and still others aren't chasing anything at all.

And still there is another kind of person,
they don't carry any particular banner,
still it's held high,
enthusiasm unfolding.

They have no need for organized religion,
no need for basic convention,
they simply know what is and what isn't,
no need for retrospection,
always moving forward.

They reject both philosophy and religion,
at least for now,
something is amiss,
no need for crowns,
philosophy,
pedantic,
religion,
self-righteous.

Still they fight,
they struggle forward,
doing what feels right for now,
growing without notice,
philosophy and religion constitute their heartbeat,
the subconscious without doubt.

They blend in today,
and tomorrow will furrow their brow,
funny how it works,
I like to think he's chasing the unseen.

My perspective is broken,
I have no opinion,
no political theory,
nothing upon which to stand.
I find myself lost,
not enough information to inform the rest,
the ignorant masses,
the proletariat.
I myself am ignorant,
and ignorance isn't bliss,
I don't know for certain if God exists,
but truthfully that's my greatest wish.
I've locked myself away,
afraid of taking a side,
afraid of playing the fool,
but I'm working my way out.
But, perhaps that's it,
that's the truth of all things,
life is a work in progress,
the truth itself is bottomless.
The vault reaches infinitely in both directions,
seek the future and the present,
not the past,
faith without works will not outlast.

I awake to a world unfamiliar,
my surrounding not the same,
the sand beneath,
crushed up glass,
the color,
eton blue,
the sky beyond me,
a different hue,
the same color,
but time changes all,
mist in the eves of the earth,
as it heaves,
trees rise from the sand,
reaching farther than the eye can see,
the water at the end,
ripples and fades,
colorless and grey,
a reflection of the same above,
a mirror to a parallel world,
pallid,
pensive,
a contemporary of my own.

I am atom,
I am quark,
I am dust,
I am ash.

Fluttering in the breeze,
mouth of the beast,
from my pyroclasm there is no retreat,
unto all the ends of the earth,
the east,
the west.

I find a home among the dreams of man,
civilization,
ascension and degradation,
here I am.

I slip between the cracks,
the grass mixed betwixt water and ash,
winding through the leaves,
upwards through the trees.

My arms burgeon upwards,
reaching for the sun,
from whence I have come,
drifting in the sky,
and sifting through sand as I lie.

Fruits bursts from my fingers,
I recede and give way,
on my way I go,
oh how sweet is the sound.

I fall and taste nostalgia,
falling through such familiar leaves,
a tasty treat.

Churning and mixing,
dripping and assimilating,
I find that I can move,
what am I now?
Who knows?

Off to the east,
as far as these feet can carry,
water and salt mix together in my teeth,
slithering across my hair.

I spy and unfamiliar creature,
I feel unsure,
unsure?
I like it.

She spies me and smiles,
a smile?
I like it.
And that's the story of how we,
came to be.