Give me the colors of a rainbow and I'll be your heart's extol  
or a petal from your favorite rose so I can place it in my soul;
Send me the pillow the fairies have gleaned with watermark  
I'll hold it to my chest until I hear the melodious coo of a lark!  

Be a Spiritual Gem inside me, I will polish and make you shine  
like a soaring star I'll glitter so you know,"I'm truly~truly thine."

When it's my time to go
do I go alone ?
Who's to guide me ?
Who's there to open the gate ?
Who's there to say welcome home ?

The days have been torn from the book
There's nothing between the covers
but that dubious look

No hands of man can reach me
No clock can measure
No wind will chill
No thoughts remain
No tears left unwashed
by rain

I will go to the music
I will crave the light
I will not fear
Nor lose sight

Between the day and dark
I will choose to follow
If I lose the way
It will be my sorrow

So let my hand go
Whisper something
beneath your breath
I will see you there
beyond the grip of death

When in-laws pay their visit
a cloud descends on the family:
when will they leave?
A day is like a century-

how they talk and advise
with such alacrity and impunity
they can't be contradicted
or they'll turn enemy-

too eager they are
to share their past history:
' Do you know I was the Beauty-Queen?
  All the handsome young men fell desperately for me!'

The father-in-law must have his say:
' I was a Colonel in the Royal Military
  in Flanders Field I fought with distinction
  to our country I brought honour and glory!'

  Meal-times are moments most trying
  nothing suits their tastes-- not even to the slightest degree
  so they suggest dining out for the whole family
  but they will not volunteer to take out any money!

What I'm not
is more important
than what I am
therein
is truth
and authenticity
contained-
the intrinsic grain

for what I am
is but externally framed
by convention
and self-protection-
an iceberg
with the water-bottom
hidden and unknown

such is the limitation
of our human nature
we struggle
to be genuine

but too often-
in vain!

Living life 'fully'-
a hyperbole
it's not possible

perfection
can't be attained-
better say 'living meaningfully'

even
the whitest snow
does some imperfection contain

There's a void in my life that I can't explain,
A vacant wasteland of untouched terrain;
A candle waiting for someone to light . . .
Who am I missing tonight?

Was he in the crowd, did we pass in the street?
On some occasion did our eyes chance to meet?
A faceless form slips in and out of sight...
Who am I missing tonight?

Does he think of the girl  that he never met?
Is he cursing Fate for this unpaid debt?
Does he also ask as he dims the light:
"Who am I missing tonight?"

Now Time has reclaimed my borrowed youth
And I fear I shall die not knowing the truth;
But I'll not be silenced, though  Death tries to smite
My relentless cry, as I'm drawn toward the Light . . .
Who was I missing each night?