We beseech the heavens to carry our burdens,
and for God to erase the stain;
Of mistaken words and acts reflected,
in a world that's filled with pain.

Nowadays hope seems lost and floating,
side by side like a puff of smoke;
Rules are defied while people have died,
is running this country simply a joke ?

These four years have seemed like forever,
we cannot go on existing this way;
With heads in the sand we try to survive,
facing the inevitable we kneel and pray.

This all too familiar scene has played out,
on the hallowed grounds of the country we love;
Let's gather 'round and cast our votes,
with the help of the Lord above !

The train chugged slowly along the tracks,
in the southern heat of summer--
Sweat poured from the faces of each passenger,
as they rode together in slumber.

It was late at night but stifling hot,
and the humidity hung in the air--
Moist hands from all attending porters,
carried ice-buckets, each melting faster.

Traveling far away to Charleston now,
for the family's annual reunion--
meant braving the elements for which its known,
to reach that fun-filled communion.

With baskets of goodies laying at the children's feet,
while sleeping soundly in gingham skirts and cotton jackets--
There were fresh cheeses, fruits, pickles, and breads,
wrapped carefully in brown paper packets.

Mother held onto Father's outstretched arm,
donned in her white hat of straw and lace--
She glanced through the window at the sassafras trees,
which lined the trail in sumptuous grace.

Finally rolling toward an easy stop,
the train lurched slightly with determination--
A loud whistle blew as the conductor called,
"arrived safely at Charleston station " !

It was early dawn and the children awoke,
with wild anticipation and sunny smiles--
Soon Grandpa pulled up in a horse-drawn carriage,
which would carry them through town in style.

How lovely to see all the cousins and friends,
gathering near the old willow tree--
The giggles and laughter permeated the air,
as the picnic progressed with sweet tea.

And that was a place of magical times,
when Grandma bustled about with cheer--
The scent of hydrangeas floating through the air,
was something special to embrace each year.

Somewhere ahead on the narrow road,
beyond the turquoise sky;
I see the brightness gleaming,
above the hills so high.

This vision leaps as in a dream,
and swirls around in space;
Quivering with such intensity,
it resembles a spiritual place.

The Lord has a way of showing us,,
that He's the one we seek;
And walking alone in this quiet town,
I seemed very small and meek.

My eyes were strained and red with dust,
from the dirt along the road;
The river rose in awesome stillness,
while the trees swayed to and fro.

One ray of light a fortune provides,
for those who search for peace;
And faith lies within our restful souls,
with a hopeful spirit of release.

Change takes time yet we all know,
that inner sense of sight;
Can truly match the colors which,
bounce from the prism of light.

Wildly caught in a most unusual pattern,
the reckless hands of time creating chaos;
Denied the chance to chime in awesome grace,
eventually moving forward past the chorus.

While voices yield a calling from the prophets,
to set aside their differences and squabbles;
The echoes' timely chatter brings disarray,
from a vacuum left behind in scorn and rubble.

No longer seeking to dispel the cryptic clouds,
of distinct rhetoric defying ancient chapters;
As the river of intent flows past each missive,
ruination trails in rejection of its captors.

Neglecting to reach out with total resolution,
the conflict settles down and dissipates;
Can mankind foresee the crowns of ageless stars,
when all is said and done without disgrace ?

Distinct from every other way of thinking,
a memory casts its mystic clouds and visions;
Depending solely on the inner psyche's stance,
which wistfully calls upon each core illusion.

At once a faded thought from years gone by,
can generate and embellish countless scenes;
Which built a secluded world of cryptic moments,
that haunt our days and deepen our twilight dreams.

"Remembering When" can often be quite frightening,
or touch our hearts and souls through spiritual phases;
The sunny days of wonder pass by too quickly,
from vacant eyes which turn away their gaze.

Down the precious path of love's connection,
within swirling thoughts determining our fate;
We seek the clearest answers to lifelong questions,
when 'crossing over' toward heaven's open gate.

Uneven as the limbs of a tree reaching out,
in chaotic patterns, a tormented version of a
scarecrow's domain--
How is it that Autumn presses against my skin
like shimmering opals' serenity diffused by
the mountain rain ?
Only the amber leaves left on the ground,
wet and worn, alone and somber, could tell
the tale of a fractured world...and so it goes...

Flailing, bitter wind passes through its lowering
branches,
keeping shadows at bay, forlorn and captive--
Carefully, each candle-lit carousel of angels dips
deeply into the heart of human existence,
moving relentlessly toward resolve...and so it goes...

Yet, the cold dark winter arrives in a burst of
alabaster snow, an orchard of white light amid the
coal-streaked sky--
Ironically, a peaceful resistance to the haunted echoes
of mindful thought, aroused then placated, determined to
find respite in the glancing waves of light--
Only tomorrow will arrive with its relinquished dreams,
all for nothing, everything subverted--
Then somehow the serenity of closed wounds refreshes
the flourishing gardens with misty roses blooming,
their unleashed and aromatic perfumes permeating the
crisp air--
Such pleasantries still prevail..and so it goes...

Alas, Spring and Summer seem to mesh in twinkling
stars worthy of my gaze--
My voice would whisper gently to the gods
to envelop me in an umbrella of truth, wisdom and
future aspirations--
Enchanted by the dancing diamonds in the sky,
I breathe a sigh of wonder, while the balmy nights
enhance the restless thoughts of  youth...and so it goes...


But October is the best of times, its extravagance wrapped
in cinnamon and cloves, melancholy in its stance,
yet powerful in its essence--
A menagerie of coral, bronze, and burgundy,
with pearly frost laying upon the pumpkins--
Restless souls embark on another seasonal journey,
through this picturesque tranquility and solace--
And so it goes...

But when will the dawn keep its word ?
Why does it shun our desire to walk along the waters
of Divinity ?
The rippled lake seems colored with confusion,
the azure sky mirrored on its face,
Where waterfalls crash into a heap of helpless tears
of humanity...and so it goes...

While mankind's Will senses its destiny ahead,
the finite meets the infinite, the chaos dissipates
in shallow graves,
and the scarecrows rise above the winds of change--
The world, still uneven, yet the universe waits while the growing tension leaves our souls,
flying away toward that starlit sky where life keeps
its eternal secrets...and so it goes...

Caught inside tales of mystery and crises,
borne from the ladders of indifference;
While resting upon laurels that denounce,
the costly notions which defy significance.

In essences of trials stolen and subverted,
the seemingly well-crafted words expressed;
Discovering every nuance in abundance,
protected in a myriad of rhymes obsessed.

Eternally woven through threads of time,
a master class designed for mystic wonders;
Some secrets soon arrive at caution's door,
relentless in the sounds of roaring thunder.

Revealing all the dark and hidden nightmares,
soon forgotten are the wasted hours in silence;
When secrets hushed and empty stirred about,
as countless drops of rain fell down in torrents.