The future is not written, the end is not yet known. In a world that is confused and in turmoil like a boiling *** of water. We leap forward in knowledge but fall behind in our humanity. We isolate ourselves behind electronic walls, but give away more of who we are everyday. No one knows for sure from one day to the next what the next great idea will be or where the next catastrophe will come from. Humanity hangs by a thread at any given time. Ideologies compete for the spotlight and ideas push and pull at each other. Meanwhile, there are those who get left out. There masses of people who seem unable to pull the fruit from the tree of prosperity. Perhaps we should put life on hold and let our humanity catch up with our technology. When everyone understands how the new world works and we are all on the same page, then perhaps we can all leap forward together and in one fell swoop, we can all reach for the stars.

The shadows grow long as the days get cooler. My flowers have faded and lost their bright colors. The leaves on the trees have begun to change and their is a chill in the morning air. I walk in my garden and sit quietly on a bench, I hold a cup of hot tea in my hand. I close my eyes and hear laughter of children so far away. I see the silver shimmer of new frost on blades of grass. I feel the nip of the cold on my nose. I long for yesterday, when things were so much simpler, when we were children and life was easily explained away. Unfortunately the seasons change and now with white hair taking away the raven hues of my youth, I can only sit quietly and reflect as the unchanging seasons shift and I find frost in the garden of my life once again, as time is slowly slipping away from me.

Ol' Joe comes creeping around,with helping hands and a cheesy smile. He wants to make sure women are all well, so if he gets real close, he will give you a smell. Ol' Joe likes to sniff the air, he likes to hold his women tight and smell their hair. So people may say Joe is creepy, but mostly he is just sleepy. For you see Joe really does care, even though his memory is sometime not there. So be careful when Joe comes around, if he forgets you he may think it would be nice and old Joe might sniff you twice.

In a moss covered tower cut from Black stone, deep into the side of a mountain, where the tallest battlement reaches to the setting sun. On  parchment is written the fate of men, by an old wizard holding a pen made from a dragons bone. Dipped in ink, drawn from the darkest well of men's souls, the ancient conjuror lays down lines on pristine white paper. At the rising of the sun until the going down, he scribes what mortals lives must be. With the bony pen taken from the fiercest dragon, he writes of mortal misery. He writes remembrances of broken hearts and of lost loves, and of greed and betrayal he pushes the words on to the paper with a smile. From coming of dawn until setting sun, he writes and writes on a never ending parchment. Then in the night the stories he has written fade as do the lives of mortal men. As he rest in his forgotten castle, he has sewn the discord among men. He dreams of nothing but tomorrow, when for his wicked pleasure, he gets to use the Dragon Pen again.

Hydrogen and Oxygen come together and make water that is one of the forces of life. If a third part were added and the two became individual parts yet stayed in a liquid form, the oceans could be set on fire. Sunlight makes things grow and gives us warmth and light, focused into a single fine point it can destroy a diamond. The wind howls and blows in the ferocity of a storm that can twist large trees into toothpicks, yet the same force can fly a kite and make children laugh. One person can speak words and stir a nation to hate, another can speak words and make a nation seek peace. Nature and the human condition is still a mystery, even though we like to think we know what we are doing. There is still so much we don't understand.

The fullness of the silver moonlight shines over her naked form. The stars in the deep dark sky twinkle in and out as she moves. She dances on her balcony and down the stairs into her garden. Like a shade or a Pixie she twirls about. Her breast and curves are outlined in the lesser light. Her flowing locks of hair whip around in the night breeze. Like a willow tree she bends and twist rising into the air and falling silently back to the earth. Beads of sweat begin to form on her body, the light catches them and she shines as if she were covered in diamonds. Her passion runs hot as she works her way back to where she started, then in stark contrast you can her natural beauty from her shapely legs to her breast to her supple lips as she bathes in the moonlight casting a Midnight Silhouette of ****** imagination for all to see.

I cannot stop to regret what was lost and I cannot know what is yet to be. I can only live in the present and work with what has been given me. Time does not always behave as we would like it to. The bad times seem to last forever and the good ones are quickly gone away. So I will simply exist in the hear and now, and hope that it works out well. Your best days are not always behind you and you do not always win the race. What you must know is that you tried your best and that the prize you may attain may not be the one you thought you should get. So enjoy the light of day, for night comes quickly to us all. A moment is the sun is all any of us ever get and perhaps in heavens wisdom, that is just enough.