A valiant woodsman of God’s green earth,
An ever gentle soul,
Treads nobly through the forest’s edge,
To conquer hill and knoll.

Morning chill, punctuates warm breathe,
Condensing on cold steel,
A rising sun greets a friend of old,
With beckoning appeal.

The singing birds, call quick to arms,
Warning to those that hear,
The woodsman’s made his presence known,
To this they must adhere.

The ageless warrior nestles down,
A clearing by a brook,
From iron sights, he takes a bead,
A short but lasting look.

Ten points in all, the target grunts,
And directs a gazing eye,
A trigger’s squeezed a slight indent,
The woodsman breathes a sigh.

A crack of thunder, a flash of light,
The beast is crashing down,
The woodsman offers praise to God,
The forest makes no sound.

A resounding victory born this day,
Upon much hallowed earth,
And from majestic creature lost,
Does spawn a sacred birth.

The woodsman leaves, more quiet than came,
In humbleness and awe,
To tell a tale of conquest sought,
To share of what he saw.

Dreary days begin dreadful nights,
Of racing thoughts and shadowed lights,
And in the dark I yearn to find,
The culprit of my sleepless mind.

Days of waste through empty glasses,
Clogs my thoughts like thick molasses,
Digging deep in desperation,
Hoping to find sweet elation.

Her eyes, sublime, appear to me,
Glaring topaz, of tropic sea,
Wanton vulnerability,
Gives way to insecurity.

Eyes lock in harmonious gaze,
My will is strong, I do not phase,
Reposing calm comes over me,
Wishing for all eternity.

Her smile warms a cold, broken soul,
I’ve walked the path, I’ve paid the toll,
Shown the truth, however painful,
For this, I am ever grateful.

A sleeping mind consumed with love,
Sings the song of the mourning dove.
A rising sun rips through gray skies,
From my bed I shall soon arise.

Eyes wide open, yet cannot see
The beauty of uncertainty.
The mirage of truth, of destiny,
Creates prisoners of fate’s reality.

All men are born with sacred choice,
With an open heart, a resounding voice.
Heartfelt reason they soon surrender,
As they abandon their youth, so soft and tender.

Taking sides becomes life’s pursuit,
As a sturdy oak they plant their root.
And in this journey they seek to find,
Truth, self, something divine.

They batter, bruise, and torture their vessels,
With love and heartbreak they courageously wrestle.
To emerge victorious, pride intact,
They bitterly learn to face true fact.

But fact is just illusion you see,
Right and wrong, who can agree?
True and False you make believe,
In desperation, you beg and plea.

In order to make sense of life,
You resolve to judge others; compare common strife.

As you lick your wounds, like a caged dog, bitter,
Subjective thoughts and verbal weapons litter,
The ground in which reality’s based,
Is this the life you’ve chose to embrace?
Is this the mind you’ve chose to waste?

Tightly closed are clenched eyelids,
You slowly realize what life is.
Horrified at what you see,
Predictable bouts of conformity.

Wishing you could try again,
You ponder the places you’ve not been,
Ideas you’ve never entertained,
Loved one’s you’ve cast with blame.

You breathe your last breathe, not remembering your name,
In a final hope to relinquish all shame.