I sit in my rocking chair and look out the window, I see the Seasons changing around me. My world has gotten smaller, now that age has taken hold. Once I could go where I would, now I am restricted. If it's too hot or if it's too cold, my joints seem to bother me and my energy quickly flows away. My grandchildren used to visit often, but now they seldom come. When they were younger I could see the world through their eyes as I would sit and listen to the stories for hours, but those happenings were in days gone by. So now I wait on people to come, strangers that I do not know. They talk to me kindly, but they are only paid to be here. Those whom I cherished, have lives of their own to live. I hold no animosity toward them, for I know that this is just how it is. I look out the window frequently, wondering when I will see death coming to call. So far he hasn't paid me a visit, but perhaps it won't be that long. As the world around me closes in, it becomes harder for me to get around. I'm left only to look at the things around my room and to listen for Quiet Sounds. It won't be long now I think, when that which I once feared will come and set me free. It is my belief and Hope that when the veil is pulled back, that there will be a new door for me to walk through. For the world is getting even tighter around me and it can't push me much further in. I long to see a quiet end, and for a brand new journey to begin.

Oh soulless moon how cruel is your light, casting shadows in the night. In the cruelest twist of fate I must stand under your watchful gaze, as I am haunted by my loves forgotten shade. It would be better that there were no lesser light, so cold and unforgiving are you. The utter darkness would be better, then I would be wrapped in forgetfulness. How cruel fate is, she wreaks vengeance upon me. The sun burns me and you oh lesser orb taunt me. In the sun at least I can see clearly, but in your white light, shadows chase me, each one a demon lurking for my soul. Oh how I would that death had taken me instead, it would be better for me to have died of grief than my beloved. Now she is at peace and I must live each night mocked by you oh silver watcher, reminding of my lost love.

a distinct feature
in my appearance
would be
the bags under my eyes;

i remember staying up
until my bones quiver
under the bewitching spells
of the moon’s forgotten raving sonatas,
enticing enough to cradle
an iota of dejected sentiments
from centuries and centuries ago.

i remember looking up
at the night sky
until my eyes flicker from dust to ashes,
burning the crevices of every wall i built,
graveyards broken down
to match the unmatched
bleakness of the ignominious sorrow
peeking out of the corner of your soles.

i remember laying down,
not once had silence became overbearing
that i could hear the faintest brush
of a weightless feather falling
from a tainted nest,
aching to meet its pernicious lover.

i remember closing my eyes,
shifting everything elsewhere;
still, i dread the feeling of compunction
emerging deep from
the landmines of mistakes
that i had claimed as my home
and my shelter.

but this, i could never forget:
i remember
being envious of you;
how you do not
lay awake at night,
wondering if things
could have been better.

Faith is my shield and his word is my sword. I have been through many battles but I will stand for the Lord. In the shadow of the cross I will gladly lay my life down. So that my God may receive the glory and I can win the Victor's Crown. No one said my journey would be easy but I cannot leave a single soul behind. The Son of God gave me the victory, he paid a terrible cost. So one until I am called to his kingdom, I will stand up for the cross.

You may not know my name. We may never formally meet. I may not preach to a million people on T.V. . That does not mean that I am not important. That does not mean that I do not have a part. Even the smallest seed can do great things. I may be a simple worker, marching on the pilgrim way. I may only offer smiles and prayers to those who I see that are in need. That does not diminish my importance, for in every life there is a plan. I may simply be set to watch and blow a trumpet only once, but in that single moment as a watchman I may give the call. Sometime even the smallest things or single moments can change it all. So when you think who am I to God, you must understand. You are his beloved creation and you have a part in his plan.

There is a 500lb brick sitting on my brain. I try to write but I can barley strain a phrase. I look at the screen and see a square black hole where the words should be. The block is damming up my ideas and it is killing me. I try to sleep only to have the words leak out in drips and drabs. Then when I get up at 2am to try to write the block is sitting on my keyboard. The letters look like Sand Script and I cannot make them out. Why won't the phrases come out? I take out my pen and try to chisel the block away. My pen is made of a feathered quill and the block is of Granite stone, I can only scratch squiggly lines on the monolithic stone. I have a writers block, it is a terrible pain. I sit here for hours staring at a blank screen again. I get up to go to the bathroom and the block is in my way, I trip over it and hit my head. Suddenly the words begin to seep through the knot I got from banging into the floor. At least the block is cracked now, if I trip over it again, perhaps it will crack a little more?

I am no a perfect 10, unless you subtract 10 belt sizes. I have a large build but I can still see my shoes before I put them on. I do watch what I eat, I just like too much of it. I work out, but I get hungry afterwards. I do not fear a mirror because depending on the kind of mirror it is, it may not tell me the truth. I am ok with who I am, there is just more of me than there may be of some other people. Despite what others think, being fat is not that bad.