the joy of living,
the dignity of dying,
the will calls the soul.

sadly, death is proud,
i prefer him shy or coy,
my fate in my hands.

Is rain just God's tears,
Falling upon His children,
Soothing their souls' pain?

Bear hunting is done,
Silence reigns in the mountains,
Case that three-oh-eight.

Pink tears in sunlight,
A cherry tree's too short life,
Beauty flees apace.

Race toward the mountains,
Peddle through redbud alley,
Chase the blood red sky.

Underneath our masks
we paint our faces too pale;
Fraudulent smiles
Only must we wear in this play?
Tragedy makes the inks run

Audience sobs too,
yet we are too numb to vex;
Merely convincing
Plot: ignore true emotion
Please enjoy our props

Sensationalist
amusement at its finest;
Ready made to sell
Come one, come all and feel
Masques and poems enhance the play

Scripts all written by
poets, Saints and Prodigies;
Artless art makers
Publish our dear Mother Earth
Her manuscript grows everyday

Their realities
denied with good intentions;
So that we may live
A life of meaning and play
In a world of vast settings