I look at the old and the young. I see wrinkles on both the aged and the newborn. I watch trees grow and out live the children that played on them so many years ago. I see a mountain standing silently and I return in a few years, it still appears as serene as it did the first time I saw it. By what can I measure my life, by what standard do I judge my existence? Mountains stand for eons and humans live and die on a whim. Life is so short, yet we struggle to cling to it. If the truth were know of what comes after, then would we gladly let go? How can we say we were here, when our memories fade in an instant. Though we build monuments, our names are quickly forgotten, even though they are written on them. So if I were to think about it, I would likely go insane. Thus I must resolve that I and my fellow humans are but singular points on a line that is too vast for us to understand.

Enticing as divine beauty, deadly as the venom of a pit viper, the lure of power draws people into it's web. To drink from the cup of authority can be a fatal mix if you succumb to it's addictive nature. Holding the reigns of power can give one a sense of superiority, even when the yoke feels it's heaviest, the rush of being able to laud yourself over others is too much for some. In the end, if it is ripped away, the withdrawal can be to much. Once you have tasted the drug, power can become a fatal addiction that is  too much to handle.

A woman was stranded on the side of the road with a crying child in her car. A stranger came to give her help and she knew her prayers had been answered. A couple sat in a diner and realized they had no money, someone overheard their dilemma and asked the waitress for their ticket, then paid for their meal and left. A shut in was always alone at home, until a neighbor stopped by to visit, then made it a weekly thing. A young girl with a flat tire who's family had just moved away, was cold and alone on a February night, when a tall dark figure stepped out of a vehicle, the figure towering over her. In a state of fear she ask what do you want, the rough voice simply said, God sent me.

Spread your light over me. Scatter your dreams around me. Sprinkle me with your essence. Let me feel your power and rise to join you in your world. Show me the path to Never land and I will fly there as soon as I can. Open my heart to see what you see. Let me become what you are and shine brightly as a new star. Embrace me, and teach me to trust. Lift me from this mortal plane with a bit of star dust.

So comes the dawn and new challenges arise. So comes the possibilities that renewal brings. The old has passed away and day has broken. Light shines in the place of darkness. Rested eyes have opened and look brightly at the clear sky. Hearts leap with elation at what might be achieved. Doors lay before the traveler that have yet to be opened. The keys to new adventures may well be in hand already or perhaps are waiting to be discovered. Hard labor is perhaps replaced with wisdom gained from past struggles, in the hope of lessons learned that the work will become a little easier, forward we go into the new day.

I writhed in my bed, powerful visions stirring in my head. I broke out in a feverish sweat. My bed covers were soaking wet. I felt the passionate kisses, I wanted it to fulfill all of my ****** wishes. I felt it move from my feet to my face, I had to wake up and see my lovers face. Just as I was about to look into my lovers eyes, I felt the touch of a cold nose. I awoke to find that my dog had been licking me and has slobbered all over my bed and clothes.

Caught in a quagmire of turmoil, all I can think about is you. I cannot reign in the swirling that conflicts me. One moment I am empty of all feeling and in another moment I am filled with all of my emotions at once. I would hurl outward the inner most secrets that bind me inside, but when I try to forget and separate myself from that which confounds me, your memory comes rushing back. So I question my own sanity and languish with an unresolved argument. Not sure which is the real problem, I am left to be conflicted with the emotion of you.

Dawn breaks the horizon and mist rises from off of a clear stream. The fields lie dormant until the rays of mornings first light begin to bring warmth to the earth. In a miraculous spectacle, buds that have lain dormant begin to pop open. Color burst forth after the long cold winter, and a tapestry of beauty welcomes the spring. Life returns in supernatural glory as nature renews it's promise. For everything there is a season, and the beauty of new jewels to adorn the earth for a time is the remembrance of creations majesty, where the wildflowers grow.

I can't believe I did it, oh please not again. I had one too many and when that happens, this is how it ends. I wake up with a fuzzy memory and I hope I didn't I know I did. I look over and see someone sleeping soundly in beside me in bed. I try to rise quietly and figure out where I am. Did I come back to my place or did they bring me home. I finally find the bathroom and realize that it's all wrong. So I must find my clothes and try to get out quick. I don't even know what they look like, that really makes me sick. I step out of the bedroom and quietly across the floor, I finally find the front entrance and open up the door. I look around to see what street I am on, this is really bad, again things have gone all wrong. All I see are open fields and a few cows here an there. I finally come to the realization that I am not walking away from here.

I resolve to learn from my mistakes. I resolve to forgive and to try not to hate. I resolve to seek Justice and not revenge. I resolve to try to be a better friend. I resolve to show more kindness and love. I resolve to try to be more like God above.

In the clefts of a mighty mountain, a single pebble lay. Held in place by only a few flecks of earth, quietly it sat until one warm day the sun  melted the snow on top of a frozen peak. Slowly water dripped down and bit by bit it wore the earth away. Until finally after many seasons of melting snow, the pebble fell loose one day. Falling down the crack in the side of the mountain, the pebble struck a fragile ledge. The weight of the single stone was too much and the ledge gave way. Down it plummeted with it's brother the pebble, down into a ravine along the side of the mighty mountain, crashing with the sound of thunder went the pile of rocks shattering the peace of the whole mountain. Great was the shaking that rattled the mountain to it's core. Then back up the crack from which the pebble had fallen, the ripple caused a rift splitting the mountain asunder. Then what was once a single mountain was split in twain. Leaving twin peaks and a vast gap where a single pebble once had been.

Battle though I have, the war is all but lost. I have guarded my heart for way too long. I have suffered many wounds but my defenses have held as long as they can bear it. Now you have found a way through the cracks in my armor At long last I am weary and long to rest in your arms. Take me gently and hold me close to you. I raise the white flag and succumb to your enticements, at last I surrender to love.

Haunted spirits that are specters of another world. Moaning souls that are far from their lush green home. Cast out beyond the stars lamenting their voyage into the unknown. Sent by overlords to seek out another persons fortune, only to have their lives cut short by the dangers of an unforgiving planet. Jupiter rises in ascendancy and claims those who have tempted his wrath. Now it holds them prisoner in it's rings. They float along howling in silence as they see their reflections in the sparkling particles of ice and dust that encircle the name sake of the God of war. Peering beyond to the shining blue ball that they left for fortune, now they lament in eternity and loneliness hoping for some brave soul to come hence and follow on and perchance give them company and relief from their cold torment as they sit so far from their home.

Arid dry unforgiving land, filled with terrible creatures and endless sand. You are clean and pure as your truth is bare for all to see. There are no groves of trees that dot your horizon, nor do creeping vines grow as places for  things to hide. The few simple plants that do grow in your burning climate are easily discerned. Thorns ***** and the Cactus fruit is enticing once you get past the prickly surface. Water is scarce and when you find it, you hold a treasure that is necessary for life. So while others may prefer a tropical paradise or the tall forest of the mountains, I will go to the desert, for the desert is the most honest place that I know.

Reaching into the forge of the soul and pulling out hot embers of prose, the pen falls onto paper as the hammer falls to the anvil. Striking the proper cord and beating out the embers of a phrase, just as a blacksmith draws out the iron into a fine implement, each fiery exclamation comes from deep with in the heated passion of the writer. Again and again the words are poured out like molten metal. The story or the poem takes shape. The vision of the artisan being realized in ink just as the tool or object reaches finery in the hands of the craftsman, so the wordsmith crafts the written work.

The silver drops fall down around me. The cold chill rushes through me until I am numb. I stand beneath the dark sky and shed the tears that I want to hide. As the drops of water fall down my face, I cannot be sure if they are tears or if they are rain.

You see the images on the T.V. and you think you know what it's about. Hollywood sells an ideal but none of it is real. The stories cannot relate the way it really feels. When you get caught up in the game, then you hit a brick wall, it is not what you think. One moment you are living a mile a  minuet, the next you come to a dead stop. You wake up one morning and your sitting idle in a cellblock. You have some person walking around with a set of keys. The officer now controls your freedom, your choices are taken away. You look back on how fast the good times went. You see the easy money and wasted time that you spent living on a fast track to no where. The door has closed behind you and now your there. The paint ages along with you as you watch the drab walls and steel bars, you can hear sounds of the outside world when you do get to the yard. Now a decade in, you are frozen in place. You are like a stone just sitting waiting for something to come along. The cracks in the paint remind you of how many coats have been put on since you got into the cell. The truth about doing the time, is that it can be a living hell.

So proudly they stand primped and petted, the crème de le crème of K9 aristocracy. On display for all of the world to see, the envy of some to others of no concern. Many are lauded, and some misunderstood. They would not change a thing even if they could. Their owners bring them one and all, the compete with dignity and pride, that is unless a primal urge takes over. Then it could be not even a ribbon for mans best friend. Who will take home the grand prize in the end. If your hair is just right and you have the correct pedigree, then you could be the one. The one that gets to be known, the dog of dogs, the best in show.

I saw a mother holding a new born child, she sheltered it close as a gentle rain fell down. I watched two children at play, they held hands and laughed one sunny day. I saw a stranger help an old person across the street. I heard a story of someone saving the life of a person they may never meet. I saw soldiers giving children toys, bringing smiles to those different from them. I saw someone praying with a person of another faith. I heard joyous singing coming from everyplace. I saw the love that a person can show to another. I have seen God's kingdom in all of us.

The shadows are following me, I am sure it is them. I see the trees moving to surround me, I should stay away from them. I lock myself in my room, because I think it is safe. I keep looking under the bed to make sure, that no one is laying in wait for me. Most days I can only have a conversation with myself. I am not sure why that is, perhaps I am the only one who understands me. I change my clothes at least 3 times a day, my shoes almost never match what I want to wear. Perhaps I have gone over the edge already, or perhaps I am almost there. I am not sure which way I will lean tomorrow, it will depend on which way the sun chooses to rise. Beyond that, I think me and the voices will be just fine.

When you are away, I cannot eat and have trouble breathing. When you are near me I feel elated and lose all interest in other things. When you smile, my heart beats faster and faster until I think it will explode. I have ask many people what is wrong with me, even my doctors agree. I am suffering from an addiction this is true, but it is a healthy one because I am addicted to you.

When I fight back you call me a *****. When I stand on my own two feet, you say I am a feminist. If I say I am ok, you think I am in denial. If I ask to be treated as an equal, you just politely smile and laugh. Who I am does not define my self worth. What I am capable of is not defined by my gender. I am placed into a box and  overly stereotyped.  I can be both strong and smart and still have emotions. I can be caring and sensitive and still be successful. I am not what you think I should be. I will not be told what I am because I am strong!

I close my eyes and clear my mind. I let my spirit rise and venture beyond the mortal shell that holds me. I look into the darkness and see the shadows of the world beyond where my soul dwells. I watch them dance and flow along life lines. I look into the heavens and see the celestial bodies as they move in synchronous alignment. I listen to the songs of the ethos as sounds mingle with voices from other worldly places. I allow my mind to be opened to the impossible, as I move forward peering beyond the veil.

I stumble from the bed and stub my toe on the door. I shed my night clothes and leave them laying about the floor. I turn on the shower and the water is deathly cold. I shiver as I try to wash a way the haze. I limp out a naked mess, trying to open my eyes, still dripping from my icy baptism. I find a semi-clean towel and dry off as best as I can. I look for my house slippers and stumble into the kitchen. I sit down and compose myself, because I hate rising before dawn. I look over at the coffee *** and pray that it is on. Much to my dismay, it hasn't started yet. I see through blurry eyes what the time truly is. I am in disgust with myself for not checking my alarm. The coffee *** says 4 am and that does me great harm. For you see I am now frustrated and barley alive, because my coffee *** is set for when I have to get up and that is just a quarter past 5.

I saw a delicate flower and I wanted to smell it's fragrance, but the many thorns pricked me and caused me to draw back. So I had to think and move carefully to get close to the delicate Rose. I moved ever so cautiously until I was near enough to smell it's fragrance. I was then suddenly startled and drew back in haste. I was cut and pricked for all of my trouble, then in a moment of clarity I came to understand, that the most beautiful flowers often are difficult to obtain and that a Rose has thorns not just for it's protection, but to show others how to take great care when seeking to know true beauty.

The lights blink on and off in the cell block, but not from Christmas cheer. The prison is old and in much need of repair. I have a Christmas card taped to my wall, I put it up with chewing gum so that it will stay put. The photo shows my daughter another year older. I watch her through photographs while I complete my time. It is like being a stranger looking into my old life. The warden lets us sing Christmas songs, at least those of us who still believe. Many just sit in their cells waiting for the season to pass. We get our Christmas packages right before Christmas day. A few packs of cookies and what ever else the state thinks we should have. I lay back on my bunk and look through the ***** window onto the snow covered yard. I try to suppress the loneliness I feel as they call lights out at Christmas time.

Born to simplicity and raised in a foreign land, he lived a restless life until at last he could be himself. He walked the land bringing a message of hope, then he was wrongly accused and crucified for those he didn't know. One day by chance I met him and with a countenance of a gentle soul, Jesus showed  me that he died to love me.

A carpet of color adorns the open spaces. The lilies and tulips blossom by quiet streams, as wild flowers shimmer in the morning sun. The wind whips the seams of the tapestry that nature has woven and the pollen blows from it like golden flecks of a secret treasure. The flowers of the field are for a moment, but a unique beauty that can change the soul for a lifetime.

When knowledge fails and wisdom will not be heard, it is at this point when we know that we are in love. At the end of reason, passion rules the day, for the heart wants what it wants and will not be denied no matter what our intellect might tell us is rational, love will win out over reason every time.

Under the shadow of an old stone bridge, by a cobblestone way, I hold the rarest flower  in a lovers embrace. Surrounded by golden and white blossoms on running Honeysuckle vines, her lips offer an intoxication beyond the flowers that scent the air around us. I lose myself in her essence and embrace the dream that is consuming my waking world. I let her absorb me into herself so that I am part of her being. She holds me tightly and draws me even deeper into her paradise. I surrender all of myself and become but a faint memory, as I stand embracing my love in a singular moment that is frozen in time.

Thundering over ground that has known it's share of hardship, horses gallop under a Grey sky. The wind howls around them as their hooves stir up dust. The breeze carries it high into the air. Lightning flashes in the distance as Thunder echo's across the plain. In colors painted on them by nature and necessity, they wander aimlessly without boundaries. Blending into the natural beauty of the vast open spaces. The painted horses run as a mark of history across the west.

Let bells ring and sing in the air. Let the proclamation be made that Christmas is here. Let the choirs  sing in joyous refrain. Let the wonderful news be proclaimed. Through out the land let there be peace on earth and good will towards fellow humans. Let giving be our purpose to help out a stranger or a friend. Oh joyous day that is Christmas, let us remember the give that you have given us.

When the sun of innovation shines down and new creations replace the old problems of today. People will finally realize that killing for ideology is futile in it's nature. With the coming of amazing miracles of science, new ways of living will emerge. No longer will hunger and want reign in our world. New forms of wealth will become prevalent as the old things pass away. The horizons of man will expand beyond what we can ever imagine. The control of humanity will be wrested from the hands of the few and given to the ideals of the many. In this better world, we will solve our problems collectively and not just as one group. We will share the desire for peace and give each other hope, as we bridge the gaps that separate us and we shall then see the dawn of a new tomorrow.

The sea roared and the fog rolled in. The wind blew and the night closed in. Ships were lost and their captains could not see, but they found hope in a single light. A candle placed on top of a table in a tower on the shore. The simple light shined for miles through the dark and the storm. It let those who were lost see to find their way. Now go and be that light, each and every day.

I do not desire wrapped up gifts cover with glitter and bows. I do not want silly ties or sweaters that blink and glow. What I want is far simpler you see, I just want to help another find joy. If I am allowed to help a friend in need. If I can be a guiding light for someone who has lost their way. Then I will have received a wonderful gift, because I will have touched another persons life. That is the gift I want for Christmas and I wish for it will all of my might.

The wreath on the door is black this year, the lights have all been turned off and there is not a lot of cheer. The message came on December 3rd. All of the presents have been put away and everyone has heard. We are going to the airport to pick him up and to bring him home one last time. He stood up for what he believed and now his work is done. His mother will be going to see him all dressed in black. She knows he won't mind it much, she is just glad he is coming back. At Christmas dinner there will be an empty plate. A folded flag will be sitting in his place. The mood will be somber as everyone gathers to eat. All will feel sorrow at the empty seat. The twenty gun still echo from when he was laid to rest. A solider won't be home for Christmas and he will be sorely missed.

Hear the melody that the wind plays as it blows through the reeds of the marsh. Listen to the wind echo as it whistles through the tree tops. Hear the howls of the breeze that rushes down the cracks in the aged mountain that stood before man was. Hear the song of the wind chimes as the wind toys with them as they dangle from the front porch of a family's home. Like a conductor of a symphony, the wind directs many songs and plays many tunes on various instruments. In a harmony that we seldom respect or take time to enjoy.

The walls have crumbled and the floors are shattered. The windows are broken out and the roof has been torn asunder. Now the house of cards that was built on a sand dune has been shaken apart by the reality of the truth. Rose colored glasses will not make the view any better, nor will sweet words change the circumstances. There is nothing left to do but pick up the pieces and start over. A broom and a waste basket are all that I need right now. Standing on the rock bottom, I have a new and solid foundation upon which to build. So I will shake out the cob webs from my mind and light a candle of hope. Once again I will put one stone on top of another, but this time I will make sure it is solid. When it all falls apart, all you can do is begin again, no matter how many times it takes.

My eyes are fixed to the screen and I cannot look away. Virtual reality has taken over my life and I am part of the machine. I am immersed in the new world that disconnects us from our own. I live in a place where limits are only what my imagination can create. I was lured into the cyber jungle by the promise of infinite possibilities. I can reinvent myself with a touch of a button. I can walk on beams of light and talk with people I have never met, all in an artificial world that I can help create. So now I am lost in the maze and the web has entangled me. The electronic spiders wrap me in their strands of information. I am cocooned in bliss and lost to reality of what is around me. I am trapped in the web, but I don't think I want to leave.

Beyond the plains where the Buffalo once roamed beyond counting, among the tumble weeds and vast dry plains. There are footprints left by giants that have been around since before the time of man, vast crevices and gorges carved out of the rock of the earth. Canyons of great beauty that were created in time that cannot be measured in mortal days. Glaciers and mountains moving at a snails pace, cutting deep into the earth and grinding out these trails. Places deep beyond imagining, where clear water flows and streaks of color lay along the sides. While man leaves scarcely a footprint, the legacy of these wonders of nature will surpass all of the monuments that mortal hands can create and will be there long after we have left this earth as testimony of things that we are yet too young to understand.

Let the sun fade into the horizon and let the start peer through the veil of heaven. Let the fires be lit and the songs be sung. Let the darkness fall like a tapestry being drawn over the land. Do not fear the impending darkness, for light must give way to night. Young eyes will grow heavy and  seek slumber. Older voices will speak and embrace around a merry hearth. In the cool of the darkness lovers will secretly embrace. Comfort will be found and rest will come at the end of a days labors. Take no thought for a little darkness, nor fear that the light will not come again. Winters come and seasons change, but the night does not leave. So it was when all things were, even until the end. Let it be a peace and comfort unto you, for rest is upon us and so comes the night once again.

I will bring the nails if you bring the hammer. I know someone else who has some wood. I will bring a frying pan if you bring some flower, I know another who has some plates and spoons. Lets pull our resources and work for the common good. Lets give our neighbor a helping hand. Lets reach out to another and together we will take a stand. Despite our differences, we can find common ground. We can offer others hope, when we gather together. We can build bridges and feed many needs. If we decide to be cooperative, we can solve many problems. Let's work together to make our world a better place.

In the marshy lands where Alligators sun themselves and catfish swim in dark murky water. The saw grass grows and the Cattails weave in the wind. When the marsh breezes blow through them, they whistle and sing a song. They speak of long boats and lazy days that have long since gone. When all that a child needed to be happy was a cane pole and a fishing line. In a land that once untouched by the hands of time. Though storms have blown away sand bars and tourist have tried to come in, at the heart of the marsh land change is seldom seen. The Alligators and the catfish, they are still the same and if you go deep enough in, you can still find good fishing cane. So despite what the world says, there is still a place where life moves slow. Just take a trip down to where the Cattails grow.

Open up the doors to the grandest hall and invite the poor and the unwanted. Set before them a feast and offer them gifts. Provide music and laughter because they don't know what is hear after. Tomorrow is likely to be another grim and sullen day. So for now show them that there is joy. Let their hearts be light and free. Throw a party for those who have nothing to celebrate and let them see how good life can truly be.

The seams of society became frayed and undone. The people were confused and filled with inpatients. No one knows where the thread first came unraveled, but when the smoke cleared the face of the world had changes. Power was ripped from the hands of those who held it and overnight new leaders were born. Ideas that had been suppressed now came to the surface, along with earth shaking new ways of doing things. It all came crashing down as the old ways were wiped away and a new path to tomorrow was found.

We have listened to our leaders who have become corrupt. We have been told they will take care of us and now we have no love. Homes are ripped to pieces, because we have given in to lies. There is only a hand out and not a hand up. We have lost a firm and guiding hand. Fathers have been taken out and replaced by a bureaucrat. The family has been turned into a number on a page. Boys do not learn respect or discipline and families are only half what they were. Where is the family today? We have no answer and we wonder why our society is this way.

He that spoke creation into being,the creator of the first light. Teacher of wisdom and giver of knowledge, the unseen guiding hand. Let creation reverence you and give you adoration. Let your love and mercy fill our hearts with compassion. He that was first and is last hear our praises of your holy name. We lift you up and remember you, let us come humbly before you in all things. Let your children seek out your will, hear us oh ancient of days.

I'm sitting here rocking the cell block, getting a new tattoo. Ever since I left the streets there isn't much else to do. I was banging with my crew when the lead started to fly. I was making a few bucks just trying to get by. One of the boys had a beef and we had to put some work in. One 9mm and three shots later and I'm hitting the Penn. . Watched my homeboy laid down in the street, nobody saw nothing or that's what the police say. Now I got to do 20 hard, I hate that it has to be this way. I left a few good homies still running in the streets, they still trying to be living large and I am property of the state. Looking at the new crew that just came in, I haven't seen my family in God only knows when. So here I sit in a cell, trying to remember what it was all for. I am dying to get a touch, but no love is coming through that door. The ones I thought were my friends, have just walked away. After I took the wrap, they don't have anything to say. Even if I wanted to tell, I don't think I could. I still have family living in the same old hood. So I guess this is how for the moment it has to be. I'm sitting here soldering up with no love from the homies.

Open the cylinder and put a bullet in. Whirl it around and close it up again. Put it to the side of my head and give the trigger a pull. Catch my breathe and take a drink and do it once again. Take some more chances, I think I will just jump in.

Try as we might we can't unlearn a bias so easily. We are partly the product of our environment. We grow up and learn things that become ingrained in our psyche and we have a hard time admitting them to ourselves. While no one can be truly free of a bias, because we live in a mortal form, we can do what we can to be more understanding. Only when we accept that all of us are judgmental and form opinions before we know something, will we ever begin to change the way we think as a whole.