Show me
true beauty
how waves
break the shore
into individual grains
yet each contains
the whole
crystalline universe
reflecting light
renouncing midnight

Leave me not
upon the sand
barefoot and stripped
recounting sins
to the weary wind
return my heart
to loving grace
salt-scrubbed chambers
cleansed of hate
tenderly reborn

let love
rise from this
arid ground
clear water drawn
from a deeper well
with cupped hands
tend the seeds
so we may eat
of the bounty
that rightfully belongs

to no one

if you are afraid to be a one man band
you must be afraid of life and eternity
when the orchestra and the choir stops
it is all up to you
you have to sing proud loud and resonant
sing that song you can
no one is gonna sing along with you
in the end
close your eyes
and sing loud
cry out

To fashion a Home.
Warm comforts transcending trends,
Welcomes inner peace.

in passing of time,
as we grow old,
as i learned the wisdom
of the good and bad
in the rhythm of life
i stood still -
  in pause,
       waiting
              in silence.
at a passing thought
you'll never know
what's out there -
uncertain in most
                      cases.
in beating the odds
a step yet to have taken
    i only took a detour
for a time, just for a short while
yet I wouldn't have imagine
years has passed never did
i take a step...

Let us bend our minds
toward simpler times
and hail the coming
of an unexpected apocalypse

Limping toward the infinite
scattering thank yous
and blessings
like popcorn to the wind
a foolish man
am I

This life was supposed to be
different
a changing of the guard
But the guard stayed on
same old starched suits
same old
old

So how did I become
so young?
I woke just yesterday
to a sunrise stretched
like God's fresh linen
across the eastern sky
No idea how I got here

Every memory is dipped
from the well of time
and I draw that bucket well
and carefully

I taste the water
as a sacrament

The tick tock of time
is a goad
and  a constant reminder
that we must never forget
and never should fret

So drink deeply
and know the sacred
in every moment in time
and every moment
long gone from time.

It is a gift that you are given.

When there is a cloud of sorrow, a poet's pen learns to walk.
When the sorrow intensifies with heavy showers, the pen learns to dance and creates magic.

When peace and tranquility prevails, the poet's pen starts to wamble. It gets difficult for it to take each and every step.
And during the summer of happiness, the pen moves to a corner and suffocates to death.