What are fingers, anyway?
What gentle touch is missed?
On whatever given anguished day
When fingers form a fist

What are hands for, anyway?
If not for us to lend?
Can I make you do just as I pray?
Is your will my hand's to bend?

What's a conscience, anyway?
If not a simple guide?
How does one have final say
With indifference, what has died?

What's a dream for, anyway?
What nightmares must we reap?
Till comes the morning of the day
We rise from peaceful sleep

Whence comes the welcome warming
Of water, wood and stone
With earth and sky together forming
The love of Home is sown

Much can be said for worn-out old boots
And the soul of an insatiable rover
As much can be said of reverent old roots
And a family to love and watch over

a single leaf skipped by
on a gust of wind
i heard it sadly sigh
for what it once had been
at first light did it let go
while others stayed behind
it wandered wistful down below
alone and cruelly blind
i held it up at its behest
deep green its color took
in my heart it's now pressed
a leaf within a book

i followed close the river's flow
upon a winding road
it softly whispered to and fro
its secrets as i strode

i came upon a saddened child
who knew much more than i
i asked his name and he just smiled
and turned to say good-bye

the air was sweet and warm and dry
the river bade me follow
thoughts of the child that would not cry
kept me from my wallow

the river narrowed and flowed with haste
and i ran to match its pace
but the image still was not erased
of the saddened child's face

what did he know that i did not?
why sad and yet still smiling?
what mystery was his lonesome lot?
why was he so beguiling?

with heavy foot did i then tread
as i neared the river's end
into a larger river, it now led
whose course that i did wend

i trekked along the riverbank
one thought still filled my mind
then and then my poor heart sank
at what i was to find

again the saddened child i met
and the vigil that he kept
his eyes upon me now were set
as the saddened child wept

We artists, peasants, fools and King

We beasts that roam in packs

We citizens that claim to God we sing

We players of one act

Our hopes a hollow, smirking jest

Our dreams for darkness lack

Our past remains a futile quest

Our future ten steps back

I traveled to a land of trees
As summer turned to fall
I shivered in the biting breeze
That warned of winter's pall

I spoke to every tree I met
And every fallen leaf
The wind they said had not blown yet
Much so to their relief

They swayed together all as one
And shared a common fear
With roots so deep they could not run
As winter winds drew near

I tried to reassure my friends
Each year begins anew
The Earth will surely make amends
To every one of you

I spoke to what I knew of change
And what I knew of spring
But something in the air seemed strange
There tolled a plaintive ring

And then I saw what troubled me
In this dear painted wood
A plague infected every tree
Where once they proudly stood