I watch the airplane,
Thirty-thousand feet above,
Disappear
And reappear
Between the gentle folds
Of the 100-year-old glass
In my windowpane

A low angled light,
Shot from the distant sun,
Finds its way between my red curtains
And forces my thoughts to bloom.

Sometimes I think of what is in the world,
And then what's in it for me,
And the desire wrenches my heart.
And it hurts,
Oh God, it hurts.
Hurts so that I might cry out,
But I hold my tongue.

Cherry trees in bloom
Branches burdened with blossoms
Last 'till wind and rain

The discomfort
The preexisting doubt, magnifies
Turns every infinitesimal crack of disagreement
Into one great chasm of rage.

And I try
Oh, I try
To build a bridge between
Opposing sides, but
The chasm is so deep
And so wide, that
Every attempt ends in failure
And I too, become frustrated
Frustrated with the crumbling cement
And the mangled steel
And the **** chasm itself

My understanding of basic engineering principles
Leaves much to be desired

Gently falling
Snowflakes from a shaken bough
A streak of sunlight
Delicate and gold

Worlds collide
Worlds become one
Worlds become beautiful
Worlds end

I am living
In the Floating World

I am a man of science and
A man of faith,
But look me in the eye and
Tell me, do you think your word
Is as good as that of God?

And even His have been manipulated
So much that I cannot be too sure
What is fact and
What is fiction