I am smoke that rises and disappears into the air. I am the dried straw that lays on the ground. I am little and not much to see. I came and went as if I were nothing. I am a phantom before you, I am invisible in the light of day. I am part of the background when you are near. Oh how I wish you could see me.

What is the essence of a man? Is physical strength and bravado the makings of a man? Does courage in the face of danger define who a man is? Is it better for a man to show emotion or to hide it? Perhaps the best answer lies in some of all of these things. Having strength to show courage and to show emotions when it is necessary with little thought for what others think is a true definition of what makes a man what he needs to be.

Oh to dance on Green meadows and bask in the sun while my silver mane blows in the wind. My mighty horn proclaiming my dominion over all that I survey, in a kingdom full of fairies and elves. The trees full of sprites playing tricks on unsuspecting travelers while I run as fast as my hooves will carry me. In a place where the water is clear and taste like Strawberries one day and honey the next. Oh how I would love to be a Unicorn living in such a mystic land.

Trees that have seen generations pass are cut down and the lakes are black with death. Rivers are muddied by runoff from what we call progress and the sky is Grey with pollution that makes the rain acidic. People walk in waste lands that used to be lush and Green and children play among trash that we have no where to put. People have too much while others have not even enough and that is taken away too. When one people hold some land and another finds a thing of worth, it is taken away and they are given nothing for their lost heritage. The ground quakes and the mountains echo with natures displeasure. One place is arid, then runs with an abundance of water. The mountains tremble and rocks fall down as if we are trying to be told something. Not until the rivers dry up and the sea turns red with poison do we see what happens when the earth cries.

On a rugged cross atop a barren hill, forsaken by all, in anguish he looked on. Crying out a battle cry that resounds through all time, all of creation was made aware that day that salvation had finally found a way. Completing the will of the one who sent him, an innocent man bore the sins of all. In three words, it is finished all was accomplished in accordance with the fathers will and God and man were joined together again.

Down a cobble stone way over a bridge that arches over a clear cool stream, I met my future in your eyes. Way laid from my journey because you had a flat tire on a bicycle, I took a few moments out of my day to mend what was broken, the whole time entranced by your pure dark eyes. What should have been a quick trip became a life time journey, when I was capture by a magical creature who wrapped me in her web of love, one day on a stony road.

Anguish fills the heart and love is broken into pieces. The eyes glaze over and the tears flow freely. The ground is covered with the salty remnants of a broken heart as it grieves for the love that has been ripped away. Not all things are of human doing, sometimes the fates are cruel. In the instances when love is suddenly lost, the bereaved can only mourn what might have been and let tears fall until they become upon the ground like the rain of a cold and lonely day.

I am only harming myself, no one else is affected. So say those who flaunt the morals of society. My body my choice, but no consideration is given when the act of procreation occurs to the life that might be created. I am getting high to forget my problems, so says the causal drug user until they become addicted to the poison that they put in their veins. In complete honesty, all actions have an effect. Some are direct and some are indirect, but there is an effect none the less. Only when we are honest with ourselves and accept that our actions have consequences can we be free of our obligations and accept that when we dig our own hole, that there might not be anyone to pull us out. Though it is likely there is a good Samaritan who will show us pity, but the help will only work if we are willing to change.

I want to live my life like the devil may care! I want to wear my clothes in a way that makes people stop and state. I want to get you excited just by casting an evil grin! Oh how I would love to be Harley Quinn!

The flags fly in tribute, the grass is cut and the stones glisten white. A fallen hero lies quiet until the eternal call comes. When you look at the name and the place, you wonder who he was. A story that lays untold is a story like mine and yours. He was someone who loved his country and was not afraid to answer the call. When it came to defending freedom, he stood proud and tall. He didn't want to lay here, but he knew that is how it might one day end. This could be anyone of us whose love of country is so great, that we would be willing to die for the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The climb was long and difficult, but I finally found the peak. Now I stand on the edge of the precipice looking out into the horizon. I am not sure how long I will stand here in silence and watch the snow drift by me? My only company is a few lonesome pines and a snow owl that seems disinterested in me. It took so long to get here but now something tells me to move on. Part of me does not want to travel anymore but I know I must continue. In the distance I see another peak and I know the journey will be long, but with each mountain that I climb I am getting closer to understanding the answers that I have sought for so long.

When something is broken or torn we use a needle and thread to sew it up. When the heart is shattered and torn, you can use threads of love. The kindness of friendship will be the twine and caring will be the needle. With each stich of love, the heart will begin to mend and soon you will find that it is whole again.

When I am weary from the journey, I will lean on the cross. When the road becomes rocky, I will lean on the cross. When the battle seems hopeless, I will lean on the cross. When the enemy seems unstoppable, I will lean on the cross. When I can find support no where else, I will lean on the cross. Until I draw my last breath, I will lean on the cross.

Carpet of Green as far as the eye can see. Trees blended creating a blanket that hides the ground from the sky. Beneath a shade I find comfort and a coolness as the sun beats down. Oh why must you go so soon, summer why can you not last. Too soon the Green fades into rainbow then brown and bland. That the trees would stay Green and that the sun would stay warm but not to warm, just enough to make life wonderful beneath a shaded patch of earth under the carpeted trees.

Shattered pieces of ceramic falling off of a roof top, adorning the ground in a colored mosaic, they refract the light of the morning sun. Piece by piece I move them around and place them where they seem to fit. Bringing a tapestry into focus, they become part of the landscape and form an image of what they wanted to be. Tired of sitting on a hobble of a house, they broke away and found a new purpose sitting on the ground waiting to emerge as weather worn pieces of faded color in different shades waiting for someone to put them together into the image of beauty that was screaming to be seen.

In childhood delight we played in the dust and in old age our finality is to return to the dust in which we played. As the dust of our childhood slipped through our fingers, so the sands of time slips away and returns us to the dust of eternity.

The unwashed masses huddle in the street. They stomp their feet and rage against the perceived injustices that they feel they must right. When one group is in power then the other side is livid with outcry. When they who protest too much have power, the others are too busy working to take notice. Until a moment of enlightenment when one side grew weary of being derided and pushed aside, then in an outrageous act, they spoke up and demanded their version of change. Now the nation is in mass hysteria, America is in a tail spin and where we will land is anyone's guess?

You may have a face full of freckles or you may have curly hair. You might talk with an accent or have a small but cute nose. You might have Brown eyes or perhaps they came out Green. You may be not so tall and kind of round, or have big feet and small hands. Despite what the world sees, there are amazing things that you keep inside. True majesty and grace abound in your soul. When you smile warmly and offer to be a friend. When you give of yourself and expect nothing in return. When you are accepting of others despite what they think of you. You show the world a rare and wonderful sight of the beauty that is in you.

When the clouds bunch up over my yard and the sun takes time off, the thunder echoes in the distance and the wind whips up dead leaves. I sit on the front porch and watch the way that things get all jumbled up and how the rain just falls and hits the ground. Wrapped up in an old blanket, I let the chilly air pass by me. I am cozy in my favorite rocker and content with where I am. It is a time of reflection and coming to terms with who I am. This is how I find comfort on a rainy day.

A lie is whispered enough until it  becomes the truth. Division starts and rips relationships apart. The devil does his dance and prances around calling the tune. We see strife and hatred as we fight for the same piece of ground. Our ideologies get in the way of love and turn us all to hate. We want to help but our own prejudices get in the way. So around and around we go, running a circle until we are all dizzy and the devil laughs as he collects his due. We are all confused and that is just where he wants us.

Twist my arm and squeeze my breast, claw my back and slap my face! Hold me down and pierce me hard! Twist my ******* and bite me, reduce me to the basest form of pleasure. Use me and abuse me make me like your love. Hurt me in ways I never thought of, give it to me rough! Show me tortured pleasure, do it over and over again! Pay no attention to my whining, let my pleas fall on deaf ears and just make me scream!

When all of the stars have gone silent and their light Fades away. When the moon retires from its Vigilant watch and Dawn breaks on a new day. I will arise from taking my rest and see what things may come, with a new morning the sun will shine and the clouds were all the way. I will find new adventures and better promises in the plans of a new day. So let the old night be forgotten and let Dawn's light shine upon the way. Let the morning come and bring with it a new day.

A violin sings in the night air and candles light the street. People are dressed in colorful clothes as they celebrate. Wine flows and people drink and dance. Some in bare feet others in ornate shoes. The stones in the square crack and echo as they are tapped by the souls of shoes and slip upon by bare feet. Exuberance fills the hearts of the people who dance with joy on Cobblestone streets in a place where cares do not exist, even if for a single night.

Guiltless a lamb stood before his accusers brought to the judgment-seat. He made not a sound as he was mocked and scorned he simply stood Waiting for the End. Rejected by Those whom he had helped he went quietly to his end. Upon A rugged tree the Son of God died and bore all of my sins from me.

The fool, the joker, the jester by many names you can call the wild card. The thing that makes it so dangerous is the fact that it is unknown. Is the fool really a fool or a cleverly disguised part in an intricate game? Who can truly say until they have played the part of the wild card? Only when you play the fool will you really know what the intent of the part really is.

I stepped out of bed and fell into the shower, I was in there only a few moments, but it felt more like an hour. I put on the coffee and microwaved my breakfast, the coffee was not hot enough and the French toast was burnt. I swallowed both down and shuffled out the door, I felt a sudden draft and realized I forgot my pants. I rushed back and danced back out the door. If I am lucky I will be at work before the boss hits the door. I get caught by every traffic light and even though I am on time, my boss gives me a ***** look as if I am way behind. I clock in and start the drudgery that I call a job. I labor under what feels like interrogation lights. It's only 1030 when I check the clock, I know that can't be right. I push through the paperwork and try to settle my mind, oh how I wish it was quitting time. Lunch time finally rolls around and I am still confused, I should have called in sick today, I have the Monday blues.

The world screams about the insanity of violence, want and need. The world kicks and screams in a fervent rage against order and justice. That which is deemed right is not wrong. Persecution is everywhere and a different opinion is now a crime. All has become chaos and many scream for salvation. Many want a savior, but not on the saviors terms. They want salvation tailor made to their specific needs. In all of the tumultuous ravings the simple message is getting lost, the salvation that they long for is already here and God hasn't gone anywhere,we have simply stopped listening to what God has to say.

Join me in nether world and watch fairies at play. Look at the unicorns prance around and dance on blue grass. Watch the colorful birds fly around in trees filled with rainbow blossoms and golden fruit. Jump into a stream that flows with Strawberry water that flows from magic fields from high in the silver capped mountains. Sit down on the ground and watch the two suns rise and the third moon descend from it's apex in the amber and blue sky. See the purple and pink clouds sail across the horizon and listen to the thunder as rain comes falling down with sweet crystal blue drops of pure water that washes everything clean. Open your mind to the possibilities and join me in taking a trip.

A concrete truck roars and groans, but I hear a dragon screaming. A woman dust out a rug from a balcony and I see a banner of a castle being flung out to declare the king has returned. People walk along aimlessly trapped in their inner city world, I see a market place filled with life and community. What others take as drab and ordinary, I see in extraordinary terms. I imagine what the life around me could really be.

The world seems confused to me. I can't seem to keep things straight in my head. I see the sky on the ground and the earth is above me, what is wrong with me? I get all mixed up when I try to make sense of things. I hope that my condition isn't serious? The doctors can't seem to agree what I should do or even what is causing my confusion. So I think I will just sit under the giant mushroom and watch the pink sea turtles swim by. I hope that I will eventually come to  a conclusion as to what I should do, perhaps I will ask the walrus the next time he comes by.

Oh wild vine that blossoms with fragrant buds into colored splendor on the end of my front porch. I watch you season after season as you creep up the trellis little by little as you seek to climb to the sun. Each year you rise and I grow older as I see your beauty come and fade. How I wish I could capture your beauty and hold it still in time, so that neither you nor I would ever age, but be held fresh in our state of beauty and bliss so that time could not take away beauty or fragrant life from either of us.

When the heart seems lost, it can be rescued. When the heart is broken, it will heal. When loneliness overflows, comfort will come. When loss makes us feel empty, the void can be filled. When hope seems lost to us, love will find a way into our lives.

People lie dying in the street and we look the other way. The innocent are murdered in their mothers womb and we have noting to say. Children and women are abused and we turn a deaf ear. When we come to our end, what will we say? When we are called into question, will their blood be upon our hands?

Covered with thorns but radiant in Crimson Red, a flower that grows rare and with a scent that can confound the senses. A rose that comes from the rarest of lines, from Sharon it was taken and planted in a garden, then it found a tree upon which to hang. Planted in the earth then bursting forth in 3 days, though it blossoms Crimson, it can make anyone white as snow.

Oh mountain that I cling to, sacred rock of ages. Rock of the foundation of all things, that is higher than I. Let thy name be exalted and given adoration, for thou oh rock are higher than I.

I am entitled, I should have it now, the words of the selfish and the hateful. Once work wasn't a four letter word and selflessness was acceptable. Now many want to be coddled and have become idle and selfish. When did it become wrong to labor, when did the entitled out number the hard working? Life is many things but often it is not fair and it definitely isn't free.

Drink up the intoxication of the moment and carry it with you as you go. A short way down the road your car will roll over and you will be a wreck. What you thought was going to last forever has run out of luck. You have hit a pothole in life and now your stuck. Not all days will be good ones some will be bitter and cold. The magic doesn't last forever, at least that's what I am told. So when you do have a good patch, enjoy it while it last, because life can end you up on the rocks pretty fast.

We are here for a moment in the grand scheme of things. Like flowers of the field, we blossom then we fade in the heat of the day. For one glorious moment we bloom and show a brief bit of beauty. It is the reality of life that we must accept that we are only a small part of a greater thing. That beyond one existence lies another and infinitely more. We are just visiting one plain until we pass on to another.

When you stop to say a prayer, please remember Steve. When you take though to care, please remember Steve. When you are feeling sad, please remember Steve. When your day is going bad, please remember Steve. When you are struggling with life, please remember Steve. When you find hope and light please remember Steve. In all things you are thankful for, please remember Steve.

Hear them bey as they lust for blood. Hear the sound of sabres rattle. Let slip the dogs of war and let carnage reign down. Fire falls from the sky and hot metal sears flesh. Guns rage and fire over the heads of unsuspecting victims. Cities burn and famine is let loose, the four riders of the apocalypse revel in the blood staining the ground. Restrain now the hounds and pull back their bridles. Hold fast the rampaging death and scourge that would be unleashed. Talk to one another and come to understand your brother, lest the dogs of war slip their leashes and rampage across the land.

The light has faded from the sky and dark clouds have blocked out the heavens. The streets are filled with waste and buildings have been abandoned. Hope is missing from those who are left, despair can be seen in the faces that peer out from broken windows. The wealth of the land has been stripped away and poverty is all that remains. Justice is a  myth that it talked about in bedtime stories and brutality and want are all too real. In cities across the land this is the stark reality and a resounding truth. A once vibrant kingdom has become nothing more than a dark foreboding land.

I climbed an ancient mountain up to the snowy peaks. I ascended to where you can touch the sky. In the frigid cold and the radiant blinding sun I looked around for paradise but found nothing but empty barren ground. In frustration I yelled at the sky then heard a faint echo and then the crack of thunder all around. I stumbled and fell to the ground as sheets of ice slid down around me and tumbled down the mountain side. In a snowy haze I regained my senses and stood on sure ground where the ice had been now was bare frozen earth. I had come to the heights of heaven looking for answers, but all I found was cold and an empty sky. Then I turned around and in a blinding moment, I saw a sheet of ice like a mirror, in it I saw my reflection staring back at me. It then came to me that my journey had not been in vain. While I had ascended in search of ancient heroes in another worldly home, instead I saw the truth about myself and who I really am. The heroes of old were not in truth Gods, but more than what people thought they could be.

Dressed in black stockings and white lace she parades down the aisle to her betroth. Carrying a scent of passion as her breast heave against her bodice, she flicks her black and silver streaked hair to one side. With eyes like two cold blue Diamonds and lips as red as wine, she enticed the unsuspecting man to her side. At the stroke of midnight beneath a silver moon, they take their vows in the presence of her coven. Her sisters look on with glee at that which will soon be. Chosen for his worldly gifts and abundance of treasure, he will find heaven and hell in one night of pleasure. A Potion of seduction is given in the bridal cup, just a few sips, that will be just enough. He is enthralled with his new wife, but alas he should beware for his life. In the wedding bed he knows her flesh, he receives her lovers gift unto death do we part. When the morning light comes, his love has grown cold, as his enchanting bride scream in tears. Her husband is dead, how could this be, a spell cast by his witch bride you see.

You plunged a dagger into my heart and cut the cords of devotion. You pulled out the essence of our love and sliced it to pieces before me. What you did not expect is to have the tables turned on you so quickly. I have cried my tears and sewn up the wound you left inside of me. Now that I have moved on and found someone else to help me heal, the blade cuts into you, though you will not let me see it. I know the truth you try to hide as you cry alone at night. The knife that you used on my heart has now cut you to the emotional core. You found out too late that heart ache cuts both ways.

Writhing in my bed wrapped in satin sheets, my lover fills me from head to toe. A vision that cannot be seen, but my body reacts just the same, giving and receiving pleasure. I exist in a state of grace, yet not of holy union. I am filled with images of your body and the heat of your touch. A fire burns inside of me that must be quenched, and only you can douse the burning embers. So come now and satiate my appetite for the pleasures of the flesh, if only in my dreams, give me rapture and let my passions be released.

You were a point of focus to inspire the soul, an anchor when I was adrift in the world. A reason to continue when there seems no point to writing. Oh how you encouraged me to reach inside and find the words. You gave me hope and showed me paths that I would not have traveled on my own. I drew courage from you as I saw the truth in your work. Despite your imperfections, you are a beacon to my frustration when I have lost my way. To lose you is to see a part of myself fade into nothingness, how I long to hear you speak or to see you write again.

Trees sit dead among the Evergreens. The wind howls and the clouds gather to sweep the remains of the leaves. The rain begins to fall and cover the limbs and needles on the Evergreens. Then the wind whips up and the temperature drops and the droplets stand perfectly still. Frozen in place, the forest is encased in a sheath of ice. Clear and white the icy drops dangle from barren limbs and Green needles as they gently sway in the wind. Then the clouds part slightly and the true beauty begins to show. What was a dead place except for the sparse Evergreen comes to life in a dazzling array of light and color. As gentle rays of light pierce the tapestry of icy jewels, they glisten like precious gems. The forest becomes as diamonds adorning every tree. Rainbows dart here and there and points of starlight shine and twinkle. To some it is simply a cold and dismal time, but to others the life of the light that shines through the frozen gems is a treasure to behold.

Her eyes were as blue as an open sky. She had hair that smelled of Honey and Jasmine. I left my heart in her hands, but I had to answer a call. While my body is miles away, my soul is where she sleeps. I know I have to keep my word, but soon I will be done and I will be setting my obligations down to return to what I left behind.

I walk down the street and I see hate and want all around me. I feel like a cork bobbing up and down in the ocean. I drown in want and need each day. I try to live in peace but all I see is people who want to steal from me. They want my money, they want my time, and they want to steal my soul. It is all too overwhelming to me. I am told to give to my neighbor and to be kind unto strangers, but why should I even care if I never see any change?

Crackle, crack, snap goes the sound of the paint as it flakes. Seams open little by little as the wall begin to break. I look at the stucco and I swear it is splitting into. Each line that appears separates into a dark fisher. I peer into the crack to see if I can find the bottom of the darkness. All that I find is that I get lost and drift a bit more out of sanity. If I stare long enough, the cracks become rifts in reality, cracks; cracks in the walls, why are they taunting me?