It waits impatiently,
A lonely, isolated seed,
Hiding in a crevice of the parched earth.
Everything it needs to grow, blossom and bloom
Seems at hand.
But sadly, something is lacking
Remaining just out of reach.
Something is missing!

It longs to break out of it's hard skin,
As it is warned by the Spring Sun.
Yet it's a prisoner of its own cocoon,
Stagnating in the wind swept soil.
Waiting for something,
It has never felt before
To set it free!

At first in intermittent drops,
Soon in a steady downpour,
Tears from heaven at the seed's plight,
Kicking up tiny plumes of dust,
Across the dry desert surface,
The Spring rain arrives at last!

The seed is soaked in this
Stream of welcome wetness
That seeps down into the depths
Where it has hidden
For eternity.

Finally, all self doubts vanish.
The desert flower sprouts, grows,
Blooms!
She looks round herself,
Smiling upon a world
That has been patiently
Awaiting her arrival
For Ever.

I miss your voice,
I miss your caring words,
I miss the melody
Of our favourite songs.
I miss your face,passion and strength ,
But,
What I really,really miss
Is to give you the first kiss.

Is there a heart so cold,
That can't be warmed
by a friendly smile?
A heart so hardened,
That it won't be softened
By the tears of a hurt child,
Or a gesture of kindness
From a close friend?

Some say, there is but one Heart,
And when It beats,
It beats for all...
Young and old,
Rich and poor,
Kind and cruel,
Just and unjust,
You and me,
Him and her,
And all the rest.

It keeps the beat
For Everyone!

Perhaps
This Great Drum never stops
It's endless loving beat
Till the last human heart
Is still?

For isn't it we alone, all together,
That makes this Heart
Beat out its song?
What point would there be
To maintain this rhythm
When everyone
Is gone?

Letting go of
Dreams and
Desires,
Giving one's self away,
One discovers that
In the death of Wanting,
Needing, Grasping,
The Whole World,
Clouds, Trees, Rocks,
Moon and Sun,
Is one's Inheritance,
Just
Waiting to be
Claimed
By no one,
By everyone!

Lyssandra works as a manager
From behind the counter
At the local bakery and café
On my quiet, little street.

Her mind is full of youthful energy,
Dreams and ambition.
She knows what she wants!
She clearly sees where the line is drawn
Between Right and Wrong, Good and Evil,
What should and shouldn’t be.

In short, Lyssandra is
The very opposite of me!
My aged mind is full of blurry lines,
Just waiting to be crossed.
My dreams are gone, my ambition, lost.
How we got to like each other
And sometimes even empathize,
We will never know.

I will miss annoying her,
Teasing her, and then,
Repeatedly apologizing to her
For my many transgressions,
And for the endless narration
Of my morally questionable life.  

For Alas, all good things
Must come to an end!
Lyssandra is leaving us.
She will never again have to fear
What nonsense might fly out of my mouth
While others are patiently
Waiting to be served.

Dear Lyssandra, you will never be replaced.
You will forever leave a space
In my dark, slightly twisted, but
Well intentioned heart,
Where you once paced
From behind the counter
At the local bakery and café,
On my quite, little street.