The Grey walls of this place will not define me, the prison that put me in will not hold me. On my body I have the memorial of my brothers that fell in the street. Each name tattooed for eternity, with much respect and love rest in peace. All of my home boys were soldiers until the end. Now I sit here each night, watching the faint shimmer of the distant city lights. I hear the haunted voices in my head, I am reminded of the unholy dead. The bodies that were left to bleed, the families that were torn apart by our deeds. Each day is the same thing routine again and again. To make it out I must be strong, I have people who want me home. So I tear at the walls one brick at a time, block by block I am bring this fortress down. I will not rest until I have beaten this place. I will make it back out of the gate. So now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to my God my soul to keep. Let me not die before I wake, please don't let this tomb be my fate. Forgive me mother for what I did to you, if I live this I promise to you. No matter what it takes, I will open the door to my freedom, block by block this will not be my final fate.

The truth lies on the ground like broken pieces of glass. It cuts deeply into the feet of those who walk on it. Reality does not bend to our will or let us reshape it to our liking, it simply is and we must accept that we have to live in it. Emotions are complicated and turbulent like a storm at sea, they can toss you around one moment and you can find a calm patch the next where you will forget the turmoil that you just went through. All of us put on a different face that the one we truly have inside of ourselves. It is the rare soul that will be brave enough to show their truest self for all of the world to see.

Let me adorn you with finery, and let me set you on a pedestal. Let me adore your beauty and your loving ways. Let me humbly be your servant and forever enthralled with you. Let me give you honors above all others, she who bore my children. Let your name be called blessed and let my hands be to your service. You are my lover, my friend, my children's mother, you are forever my queen.

We the people have freedom of speech, until what we say disagrees with another's point of view. We can agree to disagree unless the other person doesn't get their way. We believe in freedom, they believe in someone caring for them. We believe in peacefully assembly, they believe and loot and plunder. We believe in self defense, they believe the state should protect you. We are called bigots and intolerant because we dare to believe in morality and a God. They push immorality and believe in nothing, yet they say they are the tolerant ones.

Piece by piece the foundation crumbles. The decades pass and the infrastructure withers. The kind hearted and sympathetic love to spend other peoples money, it is all free, don't worry about the cost. Then as the fortunes change and the money vanishes, the helping hand goes away. In it's wake poverty and want remain. Decay lies everywhere and the foundation of self reliance is replaced by fear and ignorance. People have lost their initiative and only think of themselves, while the sit idly by and wait on government to take care of them. Some that can move on, flee to greener pastures to leech off of another system. The ones who can't are left to wallow in the squallier, as those who told them it would last forever, fiddle as the cities burn.

Will you open your heart to me, will you give me the keys to your emotional prison? Will you let me be the one to teach you how to trust again? Will you let me get to know the person inside of you? Will you forgive yourself and accept that you did nothing wrong? Will you let me help you begin to heal? Will you accept me for who I am? Will you let me love you?

The call echoes through the canyon from the sheer wall that holds the Eagles haven. Into the wind the majestic bird spreads it's wings soaring into the sun. Diving into the cool running stream it's eyes catch a vision of the fish below as it's Talons grasp life from the water and it's wings lift it into the wind back to it's mountain fortress. From its lofty perch it surveys it's domain and calls out to let all who would challenge it's dominion that it is the lord of it's land. Graceful and inspiring the Eagle stands alone.

Dark and foreboding I run down an empty street. The misdeed is done and I have gotten away with it. My stick figure of a self blends in with the night scape of dimly lit alleys and building corners. In something that seems akin to a dream, I feel the sweat trickle down my neck. The night air sits cold around me as I disappear into the rising mist. My foot steps quietly echo on the pavement as I slither back into my hole. The sewer grate clangs shut above me, I wander back into the damp and cold. Block by block I lurch forward, into the night as dark as a grave. No clue to my misdeed can be found, nor will anyone miss the life that I have taken. Into my basement I crawl, up through the sewer vent. Quietly I return to my abode, my body covered in a murderer's sweat. Carefully I wash off the stench of my deeds, I do not miss a spot. I bag the dark shroud that hid my soul from prying eyes that might try to look on. Into the furnace go the clothes, then comes the knock at the door. A still silence falls over me, as I rise from the darkness once more. Lighting a candle I go to see who is about at this hour, I open the door to find the police, I look on with a fearful scowl. How did they find me, I cannot imagine. I did everything to perfection I am sure, then it hits me like the falling of a hang mans noose, I left my ****** knife on the victims floor.

Through the Poppy fields and down a rabbit hole, to crystal waterfalls and Candy Cane forest I go. On cobble stone roads made of silver and past a Ruby wall, in golden slippers I walk. I stop for a while and talk with a Blue Unicorn and ask which way I go to get out. He says climb on top of a giant Dandelion and give it a shake, then grab on to a seed pod and see where it takes you. So up I go and with a mighty shake, the Dandelion's fluffy head goes ****. I grab onto the seed pod but I have a hold of two. One wants to go left and one wants to go right. So I let go of one and hold onto the other then off on a Raspberry scented breeze I go. I finally land on a white sugar beach next to the Pink Lemonade sea. Trying to find my bearings, I look up at the Lemon Drop sun and get blinded by it glowing light. I see a swan shaped boat and I ask it for a ride, the head of the boat says it wouldn't mind. So I jump in and off I go over the Pink Lemonade sea, I see Rainbow colored Dolphins splashing around me as I approach the Blueberry cove. There sitting under the shade of a 4 leaf Clover, I sip on a glass of Blueberry punch. Then in a quiet moment I awake back in my own bed, but I can still taste the Blueberry and my teeth are a darkened hue of Blue. So did I ever leave my home or did I actually take a beautiful journey into another world.

Our souls are an empty slate upon which lessons of life are written. We bring nothing with us into the world but curiosity. We do not know good from evil, we do not know hate and fear. These are things that we are taught or that are learned from our own interactions. We grasp on to what we know and are not often easily persuaded to venture into the unknown. What lies with in each of us is the capacity for a great many things. We can be courageous or fearful, open minded or hateful. We can be ingenious or idiotic, depending on our purpose or need. In truth what lies with in us all is the capacity to chose our own path to some degree. Our circumstances can shape us only so much, from that point on it is our own desires and determination that leads us to our own end.

If I were a book would you pick me up. Would you turn my pages gently with love? Perhaps you would thumb through my pages with wanton anticipation, as passion raced in your heart and your pulse quickened. You could grip me with terror and fear as the horrors of my words came alive in your soul. How ever you would hold me, I would be delighted and thrilled that you would want to read me and hold me close as you became lost in my pages, so that we could go on a journey together, where ever that journey might lead.

On barren place where nothing seem to grow, are collected the tears of sorrow, all of the weeping for loss and grief are collected here. As far as the eye can see, there is nothingness, no life not a single tree. As if some curse were spoken over this place, a place where no life can be. If not for the land that bears our sorrow, the earth would wither and die. So let your tear flow for what ever grief you may hold, for they will be caught by the salted ground.

Speaking to those who are receptive of your ideas can open up hearts and minds. Even if total agreement is not reached, understand can begin. When word are spoken they can heal or wound in ways we cannot even imagine. We must parse our speech carefully, for we do not know who is listening or who might take offense or take what we say to heart.

Let we the people of faith stand up in one accord. Let his holy children pray unto the lord. Let us come together in every public square and let us declare that we will meet to praise him there. Let us see who is right, let us ask with a unified call. Let us ask him for his justice and to see the wicked fall. Let us repent of our indignation and show we will not sit down, but we will gladly kneel before our God and make a joyous noise, until his holy name. Let us openly speak of the one true God again.

If the skies went silent and the streets were empty of cars. If restaurants simply closed down and all of the air traffic went away. If we all stopped fighting for just a few days and just stayed home, what would the world say? If Americans all took a vacation and had a few days off, would it spread terror through our leaders and what would it actually cost? To just sit in silence and be with our loved ones. To just sit on our porches and listen to the rain or lay out for a while in the sun. Just imagine what it would be like, imagine the utter shock, if we all decided not to work and took our power back.

Noble steeds have silenced their hooves and the round table has been split asunder. Chain mail sits idle and rusted with no one to bear it. Damsels no more distress, for they will rescue their own dam selves. Nobility has been silenced and Chivalry is not politically correct. The wise king no longer wears a crown, but a suit and tie. Bureaucrats have replaced those who seek to serve a noble cause for a higher purpose and those who aspire to nobility for nobility's sake have only their own interest at heart. So lies in tatters Camelot and the holy visage. Majesty has been rendered impotent. So now we lay in trouble and wait, each of us wanting only for what we can carve out of the fallen kingdom. No more knights to the saving of the kingdom, parse out what you can until nothing remains. No more kings men to come to our aid, we have dissolved all nobility and we are on our own. Now when we ask ourselves where have the kings men gone, we must look in the mirror and blame ourselves.

Stand clear and be aware, I will no longer just sit and wait. My cocoon has been around me for way to long. I am going to spread my wings and try out new freedom. I am tired of being a wall flower, I am going to blossom and grow. With determined spirit that has been pent up too long, I will forge my own path and write my own song. So prepare yourself and know this well, I am ready for adventure, because I am coming out of my shell.

From the dawn of creation until the end of days, let the name of the lord be praised. Let the heavens sing of the only one, the perfect lamb, Gods only son. Let all of those who would come and see, what has been wrought, the victory. From the end of his life until he rose again, let his name be exalted again and again. Come now and release us, even so lord Jesus come.

Fear now the dark messenger, run from the shadow of the reaper. See the icy hand of mortality closing on the soul with it's fearful grasp. Look at the end and judge your worth, how will you fall today. Oh how some live in terror of an ending, oh how some are ignorant of it's coming. All things both great and small will see it, but not all will abhor it. What is loathsome to some is welcome to others. What holds the eternity has a double edged sword in it's hand. To many death is a mystery and filled with fear and trepidation, to others it is a welcome friend. It is the one thing that we are all are assured and it comes at it's own pace. Not all will feel it quickly, some will wait years for it to come. What ever the time or when ever the moment, it is assured. As a door way to another world or the end and judgment of a soul, death is ever present and always waiting to claim it's own.

The most precious things are not always kept in vaults or in fortresses of princes or kings. Some of the greatest treasures can not be measured or given a value. The first kiss of true love or the first laugh of a new born child. These are things that no treasure can buy. A true friendship that has want of nothing but to just be, a life long love that can withstand the eternity. No gem stone or money can buy the value of these things. They are intangible treasures that are beyond the wealth of the richest man or the wisdom of the mightiest king.

They stole it, it was a conspiracy so says the disenfranchised nut job. It wasn't our fault, we did nothing so says the liberal left wing voter. Never mind the candidate was toxic and needed hazmat suits to be handled, we were robbed. On goes the rhetoric as they are told to resist. Become the deep state and dig in for the long haul. You are not defeated voters, you are resistance fighters. From California to New York and other places in between, the cry goes up as they take flight. One by one they blame everybody and everything but themselves. The loon bat takes flight not knowing that it is an endangered species as it's delusional world crumbles in lieu of common sense.

Oh how the world cares for it's own. How they amass fortunes but do not share. Oh how the things that money can buy will fade, and soon no one will care. My treasure is not kept in silver, it is not for others to behold. My wealth is held by my father, whose king holds wealth untold. A city made with out hands, whose foundations are of precious stones. With walls  of Jewels and streets of purest gold. So let the world forget me, and give me only meager fare, for in heaven I have laid up a fortune of riches beyond compare.

Donning lace and silk, walking with the scent of Roses and Lilacs. Looking on faces hidden beneath the masquerade that plays the part of life's theater. Each movement is calculated and each step is intentional. Showing a little of this here a little of that there, as your breast heave in a tightly woven tapestry designed to draw in the eyes of the beholder. A master piece painted for the pleasure of the affluent and the powerful. Sitting slightly next to those who hold the reigns of power, politely laughing when it is called for, lips painted a luscious hue of red or pink, tempting like some forbidden fruit. Bowing graciously to the invitation, accepting the offer to dance. Even if there is no music, the quarry has taken the bait of seduction and the dance begins. Polite at first then more passionate, each touch intentional, each glance designed to draw in the beholder of the superficial beauty. A taunt to make the powerful want what they do not possess and cannot readily buy. The first kiss, then passions release as your trade is plied and your craft is perfected. Little by little the rich and powerful are drawn, until the negotiation is complete and you succumb to the inevitable passion that you must endure. Whether for necessity or a grander design, you release yourself into the arms of your lover. Giving away the secret that you have kept, you wait for the intrigue to be over. Now that your trap is sprung, you need only feign interest, if none is truly there until the quarry has surrendered to your wiles and the seduction of power is done.

What can I gain by giving and not receiving? What will it matter if I lend you a hand? What could possibly be of benefit to me, why should I even care? If I do only for myself and only when I can elicit gain, think how rich I would be and how much better off? In the world of material things, I could prosper, but at what cost to my soul?

I walked along one day and I saw a well beaten path. I stepped off of my usual route and seemed to be in a familiar place. Before me I saw foot prints worn in the dirt. I stepped upon them and they were the same as mine. I looked in the far distance and I saw a shaded figure walking. I ran to catch up with him, but I could not. Before I knew it, I was well down the road, so I felt that I should just go on. A little further ,then a little more until the path I had been on was left behind. I then looked back and saw the foot steps and in the distance I saw a shaded figure looking at me. I could not make out who the person was, so I just carried on, each step I took was the same as the one that lay before me. Finally I stopped and looked back again, the path behind me had grown darker, but I could see  a figure coming behind me. It was then I began to ponder, was I following another, or perhaps I was following a path that I had already walked and the foot prints in the dust ahead of me were actually my own?

When the birds sing again and their tune warms my heart. When I look for sun and not a rainy day. When I see hope on the horizon and can cry without regret, then perhaps I will be myself again. Until that day comes, I will dwell on the rich memories that I hold near and dear to my heart. I shall get lost in photos of what we had. I will remember only the laughter and warmth, but not the anguish and sorrow, for now this is all I have. So do not ask me again if I am all right, just wait a little while and we shall see. Each day a smaller part of what was dies out and I become a little more like myself, but for now let me live in the past and reminisce about what could have been. Then on a day appointed yet to come, I will mourn my last and grieve no more. I will start with a clean slate as if I had lost a dear friend. I will bury the past and look to tomorrow, when our love has finally passed on.

On a lazy path covered with Jasmine and Silver Maples, I walk back in time. In the partial shade of over hanging tree limbs, I close my eyes and feel the cool southern breeze. I smell the ambrosia that fills the air as the blossoms from flowers and trees mix to form a perfume quite like no other. I open my eyes and I can see barefoot children running down a dirt path to a deep and slow moving creek. I see cane poles flopping in the wind and hear the sound of rocks skipping across the water. Trapped in the images of home, I fade with the memories and let myself get lost in time. I find myself at a no particular destination, far away from the rest of the world. I just sit on a log somewhere past nowhere in particular.

If you could be turned inside out, what would people truly see. Would they see that you are Red because you are angry at the world? Would you be a bright shade of Yellow because you are full of optimism and life? Would you be a dark shade of Blue or perhaps pitch Black because you are despondent at what you see around you? Think about it the next time you have a quiet moment, what is the true color of you?

No matter where I was born, I knew I would not stay there. I had to makes choices on where I wanted to go. Traveling on a hard road was the only way I knew, but poverty and discouragement did not stop me. With ****** finger nails and callused hands, I climbed out of the place that fate put me. I might not have been born to privilege, but my circumstances don't define me.

My garments are tattered and my shoes have become worn, from many a wear mile that I have walked. I have climbed many mountains and weathered many storms and my sight sometime grows a little dim. Despite the burdens that weigh me down, I still look towards home and the day I receive a robe and crown. When my last labor is over and my work on earth is done, I will lay down my mortal coil. In a moment of celebration and heavenly elation, I will finally receive a robe and crown. A new garment forged of the righteous work I have done, not for earthly glory was it wrought. The helping hand I offered and the witness I gave, was all for the father who waits to greet me. When at last I see Heaven, I will receive my prize, when the master gives me a robe and crown.

Hair thin lines are engraved into my skin. Paper thin slivers travel over me again and again. Emotional tears break open and wounds bleed my sentiment. The Ravens gather as they wait for me to fall into my grave. Your words slice me only on the surface, my inner soul is buried already beneath a heart of stone. Try as you might you only slightly wound me, but with enough attacks I may be undone. Instead of grievously striking me with an open attack, you slice and cut me from all directions. You leave small wounds that culminate in my weakening. Finally I see the shadows gathering around me as the light begins to dim, the Ravens caw as they await my demise. Slowly I feel my emotional life slipping further away as I am dying from a thousand cuts your words have made in me.

Into the silence go my words. In the dark of night I cry out. When the stars fade and day seems years away, in a raspy voice I plead for understanding and long to feel his holy touch. I plead with a broken heart, that seems to ache too much. I reach for peace and hide in dark corners to pray. If God would only hear me call, then I know it would be okay.

Another day has gone by and I have accomplished nothing of consequence. My emotional well has been drained dry and my tears are spent. I have nothing left at the moment, but to be completely numb. Perhaps I will feel something when tomorrow comes. So get yourself out and have a good time. Let me just sit here and drink my exhaustion away and I will be just fine. Live it for the both of us and perhaps you can use up some of my sorrow. While I try to forget todays problems, come around another day and perhaps I will be able to love you tomorrow.

The sea of people churns like violent winds. They have no direction but run everywhere. Seeking anything that will give peace to their souls, they are without a set course. All who seek rest from the peace of God sail a crooked course. If we reject his peace, though we think we are at rest, we are never satisfied with the things of the world.

Sitting in a window on a dressing mannequin, viewed by a wide eyed girl, a lace dress shimmers soft and white. Oh how she wants to feel it caress her skin. She presses her face to the window and look at again and again. Each day she comes by, she longs for it to be hers. She hopes and waits patiently until she can make it her own. With ribbons and frills she imagines how she will look. At night she dreams of it's beauty, as she waits to sleep. Then one day she comes by and it is gone. Her heart falls into sadness, for her dream has been shattered. At home she sits solemnly peering out a window. Through lace curtains she views the world as it goes by. Then a light shines in her eyes, like the dawn of a new day. With great anticipation, she gets up and goes on her way. With a sewing kit and some scissors, she pulls the curtains down. She cuts and sews with great care, until she is done. With a fitted slip, she finishes her work until she thinks she has it right. Then standing in front of a mirror, she smiles with sheer delight. What she could not buy she has made for herself. The lace dress looks wonderful, as good at the one she saw in the store. Now her only problem is what to do about the curtains that are not hanging on her mother’s windows anymore?

Nature is not kind, it can be overly cruel. What we see as unnecessary violence is in fact the way that life exist in all of the world. Violence is part of the natural order of all things. Predators eat prey and the remnants of what is killed is gathered by insects and bacteria, scavengers and is   recycled in a never end game of give and take. In humanity it can be seen as the same in certain ways that we live. The weaker of us are oppressed by the stronger and what they want is taken. Unlike nature, we amass more than we need and so the difference in the ideals of nature and man can be clearly defined. One takes and consumes out of necessity and the other will take and take even when there is more than enough. So which one is actually the more civilized?

Looking past the troubles of today to focus on the eternal tomorrow. This is what we are told to do, but while we live in the mortal coil, it is not an easy thing. We must look with our hearts and seek the spiritual place from which we can view the eternity. Only when we keep an eye on heaven, can we overcome the darkness and troubles that hinders us everyday.

Wind sweeps over buildings and past people. Glass and steel towers crumble and fade into the background. Those who walk in and out of them become ghostly images, caught in a photo of a moment in time. The wind keeps blowing, picking up bits of this and that. It wears away at mountains and uncovers tombs that once stood as great monuments, but are now nothing more than worn out pieces of rubble. What one man creates, another may destroy or simply neglect. All things come from the earth, iron, stone, and flesh alike. All are covered by time that a human cannot hope to measure. Mighty mountains and landscapes can sparsely keep up with the eons that pass. All things return back from which they came, as the dust of time collects and then is blown away into forgetfulness.

Tatters of reality lay at my feet. What used to be is now incomplete. I lay on the floor wretched and undone. My emotions are rippedto shreds as I wait for what comes next. Gaping wounds let my soul bleed out. Tears run like rain to the rivers. I am awash in misery and emotional turmoil. I feel as if the ocean has welled up inside of me. I do not know where to go from here. I sit at the bottom of a well of despair. Perhaps I will just lie here until my feelings have all been drained, then I may have the strength to climb back out again. I hope one day to again see the sun, I may yet survive the things that have been done. My love was shattered by you without a second thought, how could you leave me this way. Just sitting here with my life broken into pieces.

No good work can pay the debt, no self sacrifice can ever be enough. All of the prayers will avail you nothing. No thing of great price can purchase the eternity. Only through humility and profession of the one begotten, will you receive the gift that is given freely. Only when you are covered by the blood, will you receive salvation from the one who died for us all.

If you were given your weight in gold, would you forego ever doing another good deed? If you found a Diamond that was priceless, would you trade it for mercy? If you could obtain a crown of riches and honor but never know the unconditional love of a child, would you give that away? No one can put a price on kindness, it is it's own reward. True selflessness does not have a material price, but some would trade it for wealth. To those who know the true value of humanity, they hold a treasure of untold value, but to those who shed the conviction to be human to their fellow person with no thought of reward, they will never know what kindness is really worth.

Outside looking in on the world, I feel as I am odd. A piece of a puzzle that doesn't quite fit, not sure where I should try to make an entry or what I should mesh into? I feel as if there are aged layers upon me as if I were an ancient thing waiting to be unearthed. So much of myself is a mystery and so much of the other world I see is unknown to me. I feel as if my skin is alien sometimes, when I try to open up a heavy weight comes crashing down on my efforts. Oh how I want to be accepted, oh how I just want to find a place that I can belong.

Rash thinking and emotional fervor abound. Nap time is a no no and respect is demanded no earned. Every hour of the day is play time and I do not have to share my toys. You have cooties and I don't like you. Now look at the children who are trying to act grown up and examine the leaders we have today. In many cases what is the difference?

Just a few cents is all they say it takes. Then you can save a life in a far away land. Combined with the efforts of others you can feed a child. What does it really mean and why has it taken so long. For decades we have been feeding the poor, yet they continue to come, more and more. Where does the money really go, has anyone ever truly ask? Is it some kind joke or a Ponzi scheme that never ends. Why can't we just give the money directly to those we would like to help, then we could truly see what a dollar a day means to someone else.

Drip , plop, splash go our efforts. Into the giant pool of humanity go our efforts. Into a giant bucket with a hole that leaks out what we put into it, our human efforts meet with futility as we try to resolve the problems of our world. Until the minds and hearts of others can join together and accept that we are all human, the best intentions will just be drops in a leaky bucket that will never get filled.

Crude and unfinished I am pushed into the flame. Again and again the master brings me through the holy fire. Each time I am drawn out, a few more imperfections are taken away. Each time I become more than I was before. In the forge of trial I am prepared to be a worthy vessel. By testing and the purging heat of Gods spirit, I am drawn through the flame of tribulation. The hammer falls upon me and I am quenched in the sacred blood. Until he is satisfied that I am ready and worthy of his work that he has set for me to do.

From my veins into the pen go the words. Each line filled with my own essence. Like cuts in the flesh, the implement draws out into the paper, leaving behind a piece of my soul. The crimson letters that are filled with my life's blood reflect the inner most parts of myself. From passion to hate and many things in between, I write myself into the work. Through the pen that saps the life from my veins so that my blood flows from it's tip and lets the world see what I think and feel.

The bouquet was thrown and the cake was cut, away we went on the honeymoon. Joy and bliss soon gave way to what is this, you fixed for my supper. Surprise and wonder of love had worn off. Now all that I have is work in my thoughts. She sits at home and watches TV all day and waits for me to get home and talk about my day. Then 6 months in oh what a surprise, the test she said with a glint in her eyes. Oh no please don't say, yes a baby is on the way. I thought marriage would be days of love and bliss, nobody ever prepared me for this. Now hormones begin to kick in, I can do nothing and oh not that again. She can't fit into her clothes. She looks at me like that and I have to lie, no you don't look fat. The tears flow for no reason at all, perhaps I will give her mother a call? Now I can't decide, should I make the call or commit suicide? As the joyous day gets near, I realize that I was never prepared for our first year.

I gave not thought for tomorrow and cared only for today. I did not think what would come after or that I shouldn't live my own way. Pursuing the things that satisfied my own selfish needs, oh how many warnings I ever failed to heed. What a sinner I was before the lord came and found me. Oh how lost was I until Jesus set me free. Now I walk daily in Gods eternal peace. Oh the joy I could have known, if I had only listened you see, to the sweet message of salvation that Jesus had died for me.

You took my heart away and shattered it into pieces. Now I ache just thinking about you. My eyes cannot see, because the tears cloud my vision. Just like a cold rain, they drench my soul and leave me numb. I fear that I will salt the ground and where they fall nothing again will grow. Though I pleaded with you, my words fell on deaf ears and now you are beyond my sight. So I will sit here in sorrow for a while longer, until my eyes are all dried up, but until then I must let the tears fall, for I miss you so.