he stares at me,
silently appraising my every feature,
critical glances along the lines of my body,
looking at every angle,
seeking the nuances of me,
giving me the once-over,
like i am a piece of meat
and he looks for the best cut
at the butcher's shop.
his gaze travels over me,
and i watch his eyes,
staring back at me,
boring into my very being,
until at last i am forced to look away
from the man in the mirror.

"life *****."
"there are good parts."
"like what?"
"like the stars on a clear night."
"can't touch them."
"a puppy's kiss."
"too germy."
"a field of bright flowers."
"allergic to pollen."
"a newborn baby"
"***** all the time."
"love"
"it isn't real."

that's when i left.

she is so many things
in my world
that to list them would fill
the great colosseums
to overflowing.
it is enough to say,
"she is woman"
and be content to not define her,
but let her define herself.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

One ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.

Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

today, the sun shines a little brighter,
the grass is a little more green,
the sky more azure and clear,
the morning sounds of birds more crisp,
the air tastes better,
and life is a little sweeter -
all because it is a new day,
and the scars from yesterday belong in the past.

i stood upon the mountain,
watching the heavy ribbon of rainclouds
lumber slowly,
the breeze dying before them
as they followed the river,
ominous and threatening,
like a billow from a smokestack
in eras gone by.
the promised storm never came,
but a lightly misting rain,
here one moment and gone the next,
kissing the earth with gentle love.
i am reminded that in all things,
life is beautiful.