There was a time when all that I knew was a lie.
But then I started a search for truth.
And I tried to always be honest and good,
So I could live without self - reproof.

And I thought that just by doing so,
That all would be easier to bear.
How could anything ever go wrong,
If all was approached with care?

But it appears that even when open,
Exposing all for others to see,
That, ironically, I can still inflict pain,
Just by being a "better" me.

So, once again, I've been proven a fool,
It matters not whether right or wrong,
Doing my best, has again, failed the test,
Perhaps I was doomed to fail all along.

Of what can I control?
What depends on me?
Patient contemplation,
Makes it clear to see.

To toil with externals,
Is priceless time just spent,
Like staring at a clock, but still,
In awe of where the time went.

So let me deal internal.
To what is mine...let me give care.
Let my soul be self sufficient.
In spite of all which it must bear.

Let me be quiet and reflective;
A disciplined citadel.
Write and read and practice,
No passion trite compel.

And even aims that promise despair,
I'll usher right in...if needed to.
For it all leads to my freedom,
And my quest for what is true.

I have not known a loveliness,
As yet within my years,
That outlasted its’ predestined day,
Not predisposed to tears.
And I have not known a beauty,
That did not reach it’s prime,
Greatness always turns to ugliness,
If just but given time.
Back and forth, to and fro,
The pendulum swings always,
Good and bad, light and dark,
They each but have their days.

Why do I call you "friend?"
When I'm sure it's love I feel?
And why do I always pretend,
That real just isn't real?
Why do I allot you such a tiny part,
When only you can make me whole?
Why do I seem to withhold my heart,
And in secret surrender my soul?
Why do I always ask for proof,
To the certainties which I know?
Why do I always doubt the truth,
And in disbelief just let it go?

Well.. all the ghosts returned today,
Knocking more intensely than before,
And for some senseless reason,
I opened wide the door.
And in they came, quite in a rush,
Bombarding me, as one.
And all the protests I contrived,
Were easier thought than done.
And so they kept on rambling,
Even while I poured them tea,
And I'm still trying to figure out,
What the hell is wrong with me?
Why did I let them in again?
And then help them to unpack?
I made them leave last night, but knew
This morning they'd be back.
And while they chatter on and on,
To my self's own blame recall,
I invited them in so graciously,
And received them one and all.
They seem so content to tarry here,
So much that they may reside,
And they do make quite good company,
For my scared and doubting pride.
So should I treat them nonchalant?
Or should I be the cordial host?
I don't know whether to love or hate,
These visits with my ghosts.

I can remember the pain of grieving,
And the release from shedding tears,
But lately I can't seem to shed them,
I am numb after all these years.
And oh! what I wouldn't give to feel,
Like I had something I couldn't lose,
Instead of always, easy come, easy go,
No matter which way I choose.
And I know that some may argue,
An even temperament is the best,
But oh! how I long to know passion,
Just the same as all the rest.
Just give me something to fight for,
Of which I can't find any doubt,
So that I may wage one hell of a war,
For something I can't live without.

Even a fire burning so bright,
Can't take the heat for too long,
So it will calm and cool itself,
When the intensity is too strong.
As it seems now with you and I,
We haven't flared in quite a while,
But I can still recall all the passion,
And I still can't help but smile.

Why worry?
Trouble leaves more in it's wake.
Why grieve?
For death just will another make.
Why rage?
Justice will never be fully paid.
Why fear?
Just a lie your own mind made.
Why surrender?
Tomorrow requires it again.
Why cry?
There's more where those have been.
Why gasp?
To expect is no surprise.
Why ponder?
It only conditions eyes.
Why regret?
It's all but left in tatters.
Why love?
Because it's all that matters.

Always hold just a little back,
To keep yourself a part.
So if nothing is returned,
You do not lack a heart.
Always hold just a little back,
To keep and to conserve,
So if a withdrawal is made,
You've something in reserve.
Always hold just a little back,
To keep a "peace" of mind.
So that when the rest is lost,
You've one less "piece" to find.

My face is lit by neon,
And yours by the sunlight,
You embrace the daytime,
While I stay out all night.
Though you hate the wrongs I do,
Your love can't make them right.
My face is lit by neon,
And yours by the sunlight.

Put me where you want me.
Set me in my place.
Can't you see the look of,
Indecision on my face?
I don't know what I need to do.
Or even where that I should be.
Can't you see I am confused?
Please make this choice for me.
You see, I am a naive girl;
A coward, so it seems.
I can't even trust myself,
Let alone - my dreams.
I wish my faith were stronger.
Even if unreal, it still would guide.
And help me make some sense of,
The Uncertainty Inside.

And, when I am but blown to dust,
To foreign lands, by releasing hand,
I pray that I will find your shore,
And mingle with the well worn sand.

And, unknown to thee, I shall linger,
In the company of your grace,
And in the stillness of your presence,
Send a soft memory of my face.

A memory to remind your soul,
That even though we may be apart,
Our love has always been enough,
To heal your grieving heart.

As if late, the mighty river rushes head on,
To an end that, it finds, is already gone.
Winding, impatient, carrying useless debris,
Cutting  a path as far as any eye can see.

Moved by a force that is all of it's own,
Recklessly moving towards the unknown.
With a passion that it can not explain,
A tributary veering off from the main.

And we, like the river, urge right on ahead,
So weary, yet rushing, until we are dead.
Picking up baggage for which we have no need,
Tossed about, powerless and drowning indeed.

Yet there is a shore on which we can stand.
Just walk in faith, the way it was planned.
But until we can quiet our own inner will,
We will run like that river, and never be still.

No words can ever tell you,
Just what you mean to me.
But close your eyes a moment,
And imagine this with me.....

Lying flat out on your back,
On warm, white, powdered sand,
On a secluded hidden beach,
Pen and paper in your hand.

And peace just washes over you,
While basking naked in the sun,
Nothing to worry at all about,
All the day's work is done.

And your hand is clasped with another,
And you are not alone at all.
You listen to the waves just rolling in,
And hear a lone seagull's call.

And the clouds which are above you,
Are so soft and feathery,
That you lose yourself within them,
And you're totally care-free.

The image I have described above,
Is my most peaceful place- to be.
And it still doesn't compare to you, my friend,
That's how much you mean to me.

There's no need to dig deeper
There's no jewel within my mind
You mined them all so early on
There are no more to find

There's no need to look closer
Or to further scrutinize
You've seen all there is of me
There is no larger prize

There's no need to keep seeking
For hidden treasure in this soul
You believe you've only found a part
But I know you found the whole

I'm sorry to disappoint you
By not being "the one"
And I hate the journey ended
Before it had even begun

Every memory I have of you
Even time can never fade
And please don't ever doubt, my friend
The impact you have made

But as you walk new paths, please know
That you're always in my heart
And the loss of what I had with you
Has torn my world apart

We gazed upon a butterfly,
as it rested on a tree,
And as I sat and looked at it,
a thought occurred to me.

Many words could be used,
To describe that butterfly.
But first, I'll choose to use the ones,
That are strictly clear to eye.

The diverted tail was of black,
The body, was likely an inch.
The wings were many shades of blue,
With a spot of purple, just a pinch.

White outlined all of the colors,
From where I sat, this I could see.
Theres my objective description,
Now I'll describe it differently.

The fragile little butterfly,
With violent, majestic hues,
Gave off a translucent shimmer,
That changed with changing views.

It paused ever so sweetly,
To bless me with it's grace,
And my heart swelled within,
While I sat here in this place.

The colors were made deeper,
By the brilliance of the sun.
There's my subjective description,
But one more thought before I'm done.

It really makes no difference at all,
The words we use or choose to imply,
Because in the end if you think about it.
It's still the same butterfly.

We always bargain death,
Assume tomorrow before dawn.
Believing in another moment,
Right until that moment's gone.
Another day, another hour,
More time to get to know,
Yet another incredible soul,
Before it's time to go.
But one unexpected dawn,
A kindred soul departs,
Leaving traces of himself,
As words within our hearts.
And the whole world is weeping,
Unaware though they may grieve,
They suffered a magnificent loss,
On the day he had to leave.

The fire is beginning to smolder
other than few small pieces of transparent orange.
No need to put it out
it will take care of that itself.
There is no fuel left to burn.
And even with all the air in the world,
You must have substance
...to have fire.
I will move out of the way of the lazy smoke.
It causes my eyes to tear.

If I ever lose my love of poetry,
Please read me a little Pope,
He had a way of inspiring me,
Out of boredom bringing hope.
Or dig out some old Whitman,
So I can see nature new again,
Or Shakespeare for an illusion,
Of how things were back then.
If none of these can bring it back,
And no thrill swells in my chest,
Break out my Canadian poet,
Because I loved him the best.

There is a time for all to be undone.
Seasons change just like the wind.
But I've a keepsake from every one,
That I shared with my dear friend.

That spring, when everything was so new,
And our hearts were beating fast.
And Summer did reveal our hearts as true,
Yet through fall they did not last.

And etched upon my inner eye,
Is his face,...... with edges grey.
Memories shared by he and I,
In the seasons that didn't stay.

But one day soon, the winter will end,
And the sun will once again shine,
Upon the face of my very dear friend,
Who, for a season or two, was mine.

There is a presence who is with me every single ...
day.
That sorts through all the memories of the ...
past.
It keeps the best and worst and throws the rest...
away.
Decides which ones will fade and which will...
last.
It can recall for me some of the most beautiful...
sights,
That I have ever had the fortune...
to see.
Repeats unforgettable days; long and lonely...
nights,
Can bring them all right back...
to me.
It keeps the happy ones so I can still find...
a grin,
On a day full of grief and...
despair.
And the sad ones, a reminder that I may cry...
again,
When I am acting so free...
of care.
The guidance from bygones of...
yesterday,
Lights my path, so it is easy to...
see,
And remembrance helps me to find...
my way,
Back to the heart and soul of ...
ME.