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 May 2015 Wanderer
Phil Lindsey
In Deutschland as the tale is told,
A clockmaker was growing old
After making near a thousand clocks
He was tired of all the ticks and tocks
He was satisfied with what he’d done
But had no desire to teach his son.
His clocks were made with love and skill
But of cuckoo birds he’d had his fill
So stepping back was his decision
And his clocks were built with such precision
That he hoped they’d run all by themselves,
And, as he looked upon his empty shelves,
With sadness and with pride,
He noticed that his only son was standing by his side.

The son looked up and saw a tear,
As his father said, “I won’t interfere,
My clocks will run, or they will not
Ich bin nicht ein Wundergott
Und Ich hoffe sie verstehen
Meine Uhren müssen allein gehen.”

Phil Lindsey   May 7, 2015
today- May 7, 2015 would have Mom's 83rd Birthday.  She passed away last November.  Not long before she died, upon being told she had inoperable cancer, she told the Dr. and several of her children that she had had a "Hellishly good life."  She was a tremendous wife, mother and friend to all she met.

I believe in God, but, like all who lose someone they love,  wonder why and how God administers His plan.  

   de·ism
    ˈdēizəm,ˈdāizəm/
    noun
    noun: deism
        belief in the existence of a supreme being, specifically of a creator who does not intervene in the universe. The term is used chiefly of an intellectual movement of the 17th and 18th centuries that accepted the existence of a creator on the basis of reason but rejected belief in a supernatural deity who interacts with humankind.

It is sometimes referred to as, "The Clockmaker Theory," or "The Watchmaker Theory"
 May 2015 Wanderer
SG Holter
Cover your nerves.
Stop picking at scars to
Make them wounds again,

Healing is the super in
Superficial.
Dry your tears when looking

Back; you'll see yesterday more
Clearly.
Bitterness is darkness to

The blind, grenade shrapnel
In the body of a brave one now
Fallen.

Stand up and smile at the light;
There are many enough who bask in
The blackness of their history.  

You've fought.
Bled.
Cried rainstorms and tidal waves,

Run your hands across the view of Heaven
From the bellies of Hell shivering.
It takes courage to fall,

Grace to fly.
So fly.
It's as easy as trying.
 May 2015 Wanderer
bones
Sifting..
 May 2015 Wanderer
bones
Heavy with time he
turns the stones of memory
as he pans for gold..
Drenched in desires
Passion in all finery
Glistening beads
Adorns the silhouette
Awaiting the touch
For silent surrender
Dance to soft tunes
As passion lingers
Around the curves
No empty promises
Only passionate
Seduction
And pearls of love
I'm a ******* mess
Such a ******* success
It's just an excess of unrest
Because nothing's really wrong

I watch the sunset and sip beer
And it's all just a bit queer
How I could really complain
Look upon with disdain
A life that's really not that ******* bad

The **** in your head is what'll do you in
The demons within, all dripping with sin
I just can't make peace, can't find a release
To try and grease this process along
Until I find a place where I belong
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