today i found a bird
who was as hideous as me
oil stained and crusted over
balding,
crying like any bird should.
only softer.
i looked at him
up in his nest, alone
without a chick to feed.

and as he cried,
soft and softer,
his feathers shaking against the sticks
he looked at me, hard,
like any bird would.
only kinder.
and all the sudden,
he was
beautiful.

i spent an hour with Laughter
we chatted all the way
but i barely remember a single thing
from what she had to say

i then spent an hour with Sorrow
and ne'er a word said she
but, oh, the things i learned the day
that Sorrow walked with me.

-anonymous

if i could just have some quiet
i'm sure i wouldn't find waking up
unbearable

if i could just have some quiet
i'm sure of it, the voices would be
friendly

if i could just have some quiet
my thoughts
would not be my afflictions

if i could just have some quiet
i know my mind would go forward and
not behind my or below my feet for
me to step upon

if i could just have some quiet
i'm sure my music would
serve less as a bandage and
more as a symphony to my
madness

if i could just have some quiet
i could talk to them

if i could just have some quiet
i could float like the
clouds that reach down to my ears
instead of tumbling down
my cheek pressed against the ground
watching my sanity spill
like the blood out of my nose...

if i could just have some quiet,
i'm sure of it,
i could be loved.

to be found and found again
describes the human condition,
in which each individual is born into
yet always must discover
for themselves.

but, to be found and forgotten
describes human eternity,
which very few people truly
experience, and which requires
no discovery at all.

Only an unrelenting hope
which perhaps begets
eternity itself.