"Sydney?"

The Young Lady's Green Eyes Looked Up From A Heap Of Homework.

"Yes?"

Her Eyes Examined The Man Which Stood In Front Of Her. His Jet Black Hair Was Now Streaked With Small Strands Of Silver. His Gray Eyes Seemed Tired, But They Were The Same As They've Always Been.

The Man Looked At The Young Women Who Sat Before Him. Her Body Which Was Now Lean And Toned Was Supported By Long Legs. She Was Older Now: Her Heart Shaped Face Was Slightly Worn, But Her Eyes Were As Deep And Green As They'd Always Been.

"Promise Me Something."

The Man Watched The Young Lady As She Examined The Room Around Her; Just As She Had Since She Was A Child. Sometimes He Caught Her Watching A Bird Hopping In The Greenest Of Grasses On A Summer Afternoon, Or Intently Examining The Veins In A Leaf During The Fall Months.

The Young Lady Watched The Man's Thin Lips Set Back Into A Straight Line.

"Promise Me, You'll Always Stay The Same."

The Young Women Smiled As The Man Placed His Hand Upon Her Head; Gently Ruffling Her Soft Brown Hair.

"Daddy, The Only Way I'd Change Is If It Was For The Better."

You will never truly know love

through one being;

the facets of love and its expression

are endless and the reason

we are entranced for life

when we find that one person,

who opens the many doors

to this beautiful understanding.

Far beyond what we already know,

beyond our familial bonds

moving beyond even the spiritual

to an uncharted place.

May you all find your way there,

lost in your own beautiful

understanding of it.

call me Ishmael

call me such, though
I will not answer,
nor tell the Story
of good and evil,
if those things be,
they are not among the stars,
the stones, the fishes, the sea  

vagabonds, all
they ride the whaled waves  
that drown
the Captain’s words
they are there for the bread  
not to break it

still He howls louder
the salt waters cut the keel black,
swishing quiet, unknowing as the night  
only He creates this plaintive plight  
the others hoist sails to wily winds
untroubled by their enchantment    
bellies full, ears shut
to His harpooned harangues, while
His eternal curse is to parse
black from white

I am    
color blind, my kind
number in the millions  
yet nobody has made a secret
language to sign to us, to ensure
we don’t miss the rich laughter
of the living
no filter, no prism
has been divined to bend light  
to our pleasing,
no lens to hug
the eye, to make the gray rose red,  
the black sea blue, or imbue a sunset
with more than mocking,
shocking streaks of white
before the hapless night
I do not  know what
I am missing, for blood,
when spilled, is but store bought paint,
and how would I get the blues
if hues are emissaries
of another world  
one where hearts bleed red  
with songs for the dead  
I am color blind, my kind
number in the millions  
who will never see