Your beauty shines especially when you help those around you,
I can see your inner light shine brightest
when you are standing dearly beside him,
and let him know that you will always be there.
Let him know that you will stand by him
even at times when he's given up.
Let your beauty free, let your beauty roam,
Let your beauty shine through,
for I know that you're beautiful.

People die.
But their stories live on in the hearts of those
who had loved them.
Like the fire which has burned out.
But the ashes still remaining.

The memories wiped out
after years pass by,
Like the ashes swept
Away by the wind.

Yet the trees, the sky, the sun,
They all remain witness
to the life that was once lived
to the laughter and tears it shed.

Immortal therefore to nature,
Is the fickle human soul,
It lives on forever,
Witnessed by the sun, moon and stars-though ages may roll.

BUT NOBODY TOLD ME THE FUNERAL NEVER ENDS.

IT'S BEEN ELEVEN YEARS NOW, AND THE CASKET'S STILL LOWERING.

*"LEAVE ME HERE MOM. LEAVE ME HERE. I'M DEAD TOO."

Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.

Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Laggard dawns;

Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:

For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.

Take courage, lover!
Could you endure such pain
At any hand but hers?

*** and got,
Two examples of naught,
Silent mistreatments around the world,
Holding confusion at heart,
With twists, trifling lists decay,
I slowly find my way,

Outside the base,
Outside the mind,

For the right reasons,
I slowly define,

Girth, gotten,
Pain beneath,
The selective,
Mindless ego

Beets are Greatly Misunderstood
They Make sugar from them...
Because they're Sweet
All kinds of Treats

Candy, Cookies and Ice cream
Doughnuts, Cake and Pralines
Girl Scout Cookies and Frosty Shakes
You should Salute the Beet for all it Makes

I hope I opened your eyes to
All the things that Beets can do

it seems came her

adrift on mellow breezes
faintly scent o' strawberries

red dawn golden lashes  in rhythms
upon a meadow painted by
Emerson words and Van Gogh splashes

so lightly afoot
so not to spoil any of nature

listening
relaying

being
her.