You of Grace
a Wretch is me
that has been Saved
by One
I am Lost
but You
are the sweet sound
that makes me see
I see
because You
have taught
have relieved my heart
by my Fears
I am Lost
but You
are the Sweet Sound
that makes me see
I see
Bright Shining
I Sing
for the Sun
In you I've become
Amazing

Hesitation was my last mistake
Believing was my first,
a salty lake made clear
I can see,
every twisted path you take

It is selfish ambition,
the path you walk,
flavored with the wicked cursed
that leads only to frustration

and you suppose
none of which you do today
effects the road you walk tomorrow,
that each bridge you count burned
leaves ash afloat to future skies
and where it settles brings no sorrow.

It is first the arrival,
that awkward hello
knowing tears will bring you close.

Then it’s the revival,
even though
you've already had the proper dose
and now all you  need is growth.


It is Never survival.
Why is the Bible
only used for revival?

We're all simply waiting
for the next uplifting,
self-sufficing,
communal routine.

We're all just
chasing
the feel-good.

But there is challenge in the less extreme
and destiny in a humble spirit,
one who is yearning
deeper learning
and discerning the hidden
sin
within
the show.

I dread the trek
that takes me down
the whirligig
that spins me round
and round

I’m fastened to my plastic horse
a ripple of fatal
felicity
I fall
but float
my body buoyant

a murmurous being
dissembles my mind
and again with the haunting
the horror

rust eats the bones
moss creeps
consumes
the once proud souls who
no longer grant me
satisfaction

blissful insanity.

now the image
evanescent
my mind unravels
as I grip
my existence

no longer stranded
I am aware
alert
I am alive

Growing up,
she was always there,
keeping a watchful eye as I ran the shores of the creek.
She was my escort and witness each time I proudly snatched up a bullfrog
and the perfect playmate on rare snow-days when we would bury ourselves deep in the pile of snowflakes that were littering our driveway.

In her caring nature, she would lay beside me on the days when I was sick. 
She would rest her head upon my lap, reassure and comfort me all the while.
When I would stupidly stumble and scrape myself bleeding, she'd kiss the wound better until the blood dried and my heart caught up to my tears.

She and I would play together: dress-up and other make-believes.
We sometimes adorned ourselves in fancy clothes and danced around the kitchen, making up routines or plays to preform in front of whoever I ordered to watch the product of our silly games.

Some nights, she would lay down beside me before I feel asleep.
I would listen to her breathing; heavy and peacefully slow.
Somehow the beat of our breath would begin to fuse and we'd drift off in synchronized silence.
Then, she would sheepishly wake open her eyes just to kiss my face or the front side of my hand, assuring my half awake heart that she loved me.


But as time went on, we both grew up.
I made the choice to move far away.
Upon some odd occasion, I would visit her again.
During each reunion, she would never cease to stay close to my side, trying to pick up the days we had lost together, cherishing my now foreign presence,
wishing we had more time.


Now
I am wishing for more time with you.
I am longing for a blissful afternoon walk around the pond with you.
I am reminiscing in the feeling of running through the fields
and along the shore with you.
I am searching for another day to to lie basking in the sunshine with you.
Oh, to have just one more summer popsicle on the deck you,
or one more leaf-pile jumping Autumn eve with you.

But far mostly,
I am praying that you are not mad at what we had to do to you,
and simply just wishing that you had more than 90
short
dog years
to be my loving, loyal puppy, Lu.

To One
you are their dancer
a racing love story of imagination

To Another
you are a beggar
seeking the attention that stands still
between the narrow alleyways of a shallow mind

Yet To Another
You are a listener
A crafty songwriter that hold the hearts of many secrets

To Again Another
you are a hero
a witty crowd-pleaser
A spontaneous jester oozing of natural charm

And Then To Another

you are just a child
lost in your own world of subtle confusions
that makes you wonder if you ever even understand yourself

From a place I have never been
lies one lonley stranger
who creeps
waiting for dusk to find darkness again
He feeds on helpless souls
whos blood
shed for nothing
now runs through the veins
of the wicked
stripping them of their innocence
pushing
lies
down the throats of the fringed
altering their leisurely mindset
that now settles amongst the forfeit