Spring comes as a season with flowers and new blooms, but shopping begins before the Christmas lights are put away. July picnics are barely over and fall is in the air. There is no time for green grass and lazy summer days. The search for profit has replaced our love of freedom and joy. We now care more about how much we make or what is the next new toy. No thought is given to enjoying the moments of our lives. We just race beyond the day and let its beauty pass us by. We should take a moment and pull back the curtain of our lives. Look around at what is missing and see what we can find. Rediscover old paths and find new ones with care, return to simpler things and stop the rush to the end of what ever journey we are on. For what is life ,if we are not living it? It is just a trip on which we've lost our way.

Down I go into the murky deep. Let the dark water wash me away. Down into the depths I descend. I am forgotten and I want to forget. On the sand bottom of some deep water, in the cold darkness I am immersed into numbing silence. At last I can lose all feeling and have no memory of the pain. Let the water become angry and the wind howl above me. I will rest now and forever in my new safe haven as I let the waves roll over me.

The keyboard rocks with rhythm as speakers boom. Windows shake all over the house as a mother screams at her teenage son. He turns up the volume trying to find the right key, all he seems to do is give her a headache. He goes on for weeks then one day the keyboard stops. In solemn quiet she finally puts the aspirin down.  She thinks the worst has passed then more pain begins as he amps up his snare drums. Banging and pinging again she begins to yell. What he calls music she calls torments for hell. On this goes for many weeks, she burns through aspirin and drinks to sleep. Then one day what you would suppose, onto the internet his video goes. One million views in just under a week, what has happened mom can't conceive. Until the son who has given her grief, finally offers and explanation and some relief. With disheveled hair and moms new Ferrari, he gives her a new bottle of aspirin and says mom, I'm kind of sorry.

Dust thrown up from footsteps that pound the ground like iron. The sounds of thunder coming from an unruly herd that is completely out of control. The roar from their yells is deafening. You try to hold the gate, but it is busting at the seams. All attempts to calm them down are to no avail. They are riled up and hell bent for leather. As the gates open, they surge forward, in organized chaos, they come. A stampede of hormone enraged teenagers, pushing and shoving to see the next hot band.

Kick the ball, pass the ball, catch the ball, the simplest of definitions. All sports have the basic underpinnings. We watch to be inspired, we watch to be entertained. We get a thrill from the excitement and drama that comes from the team we love winning or losing it all. Until now, there has been sports, but no longer is this the case. The sacred arena has been turned into a political theater littered with nay Sayers and contrived outrage. 24/7 in a news cycle, we succumb to the volatile nature of confrontation. Our national pastime, our favorite hoops shooter or the fastest running back was our escape. Now millionaires not content with fame and large sums of money, must pollute the sports we love with their fake outrage. Sixty minuets in a football game or 3 hours in a baseball arena. One hour on a basketball court or a few periods on center ice. Hundreds of hours pass in a month where a person can make a statement, but when they defile the sports we love, then truly there is no game, just a sad rendition of failed lives that only want attention they feel they cannot get anywhere else.

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.

I stare at an empty chair though the place has been set. I long to hear the clink of your fork and spoon. I miss how you mash up your food and make me so crazy. Eating is not the same when your away. So finish what you have to do and put your slippers on, an empty seat awaits you. Eating as one is just not any fun. I just don't enjoy eating without you.

Last night I had a dream, I was sailing on a boat. The boat was ancient and creaked as it went along. I could not see all of the faces, but the captain stood clear. He held the helm with confidence even as the wind blew up the waves. I walked to where stood and watch him at his task. Then I noticed he had scarred hands, and quietly I asked. Where did you hurt yourself and the turned so I could see, he said oh the scars on my hands, I got them from a tree. He said that long ago, he had suffered loss. He said that the scars were a reminder of how much something cost. He said the tree where he was injured, did not hurt him long, but the injury was severe and cost him everything. I wept at his story and he asked why do you cry, for you see I had to suffer so that you would not have to die. He said I left my fathers home for a journey that you could not take, and on that tree, I had to take your place. He touch me on the shoulder, and it broke my heart. Then as suddenly as I had seen him, we were torn apart. The dream ended and I awoke, with tears filling my eyes. I knew with whom I had spoken and why he had to die. So late at night in silence, my world was torn apart, but with great remorse, I gave that man my heart. Now I long to speak with him again. I look forward to the day that we can sail on that ship again. The next time that we meet, I will already understand, why my Jesus wears the nail scars in his hands.

As dawn broke over the barren landscape, the earth rumbled and shook. Stones cracked and shattered as the path to hell was opened. From the depths of the darkness a bright light did shine forth. On the third day his journey done, our savior returned to earth. He came to bear witness that the victory had been won. He came to show that the fathers will had been done. In glorious triumph holding the keys to death, hell and the grave. He rose on the third day and reconciled man to God.

Let the water wash over my body, let the drops drench my hair. Let the cold torrents refresh my soul, for today I do not care. The early morning is turned dark and the cold water numbs my pain. So I say to the heavens wash over me and let it rain, let it rain.

Oh colorful song bird that whistles and chirps with little in the way of a care. How I do envy you and all that you must not worry for. To some you seem so simple, yet you are more clever than they know. You need only exist and be as part of nature. Everything is given to you and many scorn this, because it seems too easy you see. To be born with a song and all that you shall need to know, a simple yet wise existence. To fly around and flutter, until it is time to move on to warmer parts of the world. Then when the earth turns, you know to move again and return back to where you have already been. No map is required for you, you simply know the way. Eating, drinking, flying and singing hold the better part of your day. Until you must move on, I shall envy you for you are wiser than us all. We huddled masses of flesh that scrounge for prominence and gain, while all along you realize that you have all that you need.

Some people cover up their scars, I wear mine in the open. Some people are ashamed of being beaten, I show that I can put up a fight. Some people lose the will to get up again, I will not let anything keep me down. With each wounding and each life battle, I learn from my mistakes and do better the next time. I carry no illusions about my life, for it has not been easy. Nothing has been given to me, all has had to be fought for. In this I have earned my battle scars.

Oil runs through my veins and into my heart. The loss of your love has made my blood run thick and it is difficult to breathe. As if the cold has thickened my life's essence to oil that my heart cannot pump. I grieve for you but my tears have dried up. I sit quietly trying to move, but each joint aches. Though my blood thickens, it does little to help my motion. I sit as a machine incapable of action, until the warmth of your love gives me life again.

Cold alone and unwanted cast away like so much garbage. I shiver alone in the wet and cold. I don't know why no one wants me. I can't figure out what I did wrong. I tried to be good, but apparently I wasn't. If I was then I wouldn't be here. All I wanted was to be loved, yet I was abused and rejected. Now I am abandoned and I see no hope for tomorrow. I just want someone to love me.

Golden flower that annoys my lawn. Puffy white seed pod that drives my cat insane. Flower of Irish lore and a recipe for stew. How I love and loathe you. While you are pretty to look at, you cause me great distress. You come on like an invading army, blotching my landscape with your golden pimples. I cut you down yet you flourish, just a little lower to the ground. Then at the appointed time, you morph into snowballs of allergic terror, giving my sinuses fits. So oh Dandelion, I will love you from afar while trying to find a way to get rid of you. Until the frost comes our relationship will be one of love and hate. May winter find you and **** you off, as the frost helps me bid you goodbye.

Ground is opened in the urban sprawl. Dark earth sits where concrete and asphalt use to be. The dirt can breathe once again after years of being kept under a stony tomb. Now green things take root and grow. Food is produced by the hard work and sweat of those living in the masonry covered towers. The idea of hope is taking root as more buildings are reconfigured to allow for green spaces to blend into the urban landscape. In slow movements forward, the towers of cement and steel are being joined by cabbages and pole beans. The life is returning to a once desolate place and things are living in cohabitation under a new sun.

God has a golden chariot that glows with his divine light. It comes down to reclaim the forsaken and the abused. When little children are lost because of the wickedness done by others, he sends his chariot to carry their souls home. The wonder of the divine light cannot be seen with human eyes, but it has come more than once. It took away Elijah and was seen by Ezekiel, so it is spoken of and it must be true. Because God so loves little children, what else would he do.

Courage in the face of adversity. Self sacrifice in the face of want. A willingness to risk it all for fortunes favor. Rise to the occasion and answering the call. Only the stalwart will ever know what lies over the horizon. It is this hearty breed that takes on the challenge and risk life and limb to claim the prize of fortunes favor.

I sit in a cold sweat, I am shaking like a leaf in the wind. My mind is racing and my heart feels as if it will explode. I can't go there again, I can't let it win. I can smell the scent of my what approaches and it excites me to no end! I can't allow the demons to fill my head, I must resist the voices. I hear a soft voice as she approaches. I am suddenly still, as though I have become a stone. My eyes focus and my ears are keen to the slightest sound! The intensity of the urges are overwhelming! I try to scream out, but my voice is muted from deep with in me! My sanity has been lost and my rational man has given in! The dark thing that lives with in me is  now in control and all I can do is watch helplessly as it satisfies it's appetites!

The walls glisten adorned with silk at the great gates are opened wide. The precession of many warriors is dazzling to see as they parade in their colored armor. The music of the many instruments fills the air with jubilation as the forbidden city of the middle kingdom celebrates the coming of a new year. The sun smiles down on dancers who mimic a ancient dragon as they prance and jump about. The fire  works pop and shoot into the air as the players do their part. The celebration goes on until the setting of the sun, when lighted candles rise in paper balloons to the heavens and small ships float down a river to watch the spectacle from afar.  All are happy and hoping for good fortune as the new year comes in.

Bouquets of colors abound as the little pills that I swallowed down take hold of my keyboard. The words flow like an ebbing tide, they drift far and wide. My imagination flows like a river as I see the pretty colors of the ever expanding rainbow. My emotions are cleared away as I write about a rainy day or speak of a Unicorn that I just met. Who knew it could be this exciting when I let the pills do the writing instead of the dreary person who used to be me.

Discarded and forgotten, denied and rejected love was taken and placed on a tree. On a day that was dark and somber when all head turned away a new name was given to love you see. Sent down by his father, to accomplish the father's will. The son of God Yeshua, Jesus died upon that Hill. When all of the blood was shed and his last breath came at that moment love had a new name.

On a barren hill some Romans planted a barren tree. Rugged and stripped of it's dignity, the tree bore fruit you see. The seed was with in it, though it had no branches or boughs. The blossoming of eternal life is what grew. Between two other trees precious blood was spilled, oh what a harvest it did yield. When they cut it down, it began to spread, the roots of the tree went beyond the barren hill into eternity. It brought forth salvation you see and produced the Rose of Sharon that bled for you and me.

To write the words that you feel can be difficult. To open up and let your inner self see the light of day can be treacherous. There are many who may not see as you see and may not understand what you want to say, but to keep silent is not as nearly as bad as letting your voice be heard. While many think of what they want to say, when you pen your words, you speak from your heart and soul to many others. While self expression is a risk, it is a risk worth taking if you have the courage.

Dressed in soft colors with eyes painted like jewels. Lips like ripened fruit and soft to the touch. Hands as smooth as satin with the perfume of lavender and Cinnamon, walking subtly towards me. Looking but not looking at me, She passes by tossing her flowing raven locks with a glint in her eye. Her every movement choreographed to exude her forbidden nature. In complete loss of reason, I let my senses take it all in. Her beauty is undeniable and her affect forbidding and overpowering. Forgetting all of my obligations and my relationships, I submit to the breaking of my will, as this temptress seduces me without even a word spoken.

Open my arms to the bright noon day sun, gasp in awe as butterflies flutter around me. Walk barefoot in the grass and feel the earth between my toes. Step into a shaded grove of trees and listen to a brook as it runs by over smooth aged stones. Step into a shallow pool where minnows dart about and let the cool water run over my feet. Sit on a bed of Moss and smell the damp odors rise around me. Watch squirrels run about beneath large Oak trees, as they play. Sit back against a large cool stone and listen to birds serenade me with melodious songs. Separate myself from the ordinary grind of the daily life that I call progress while immersing myself in natural wonders that are often ignored, an yet exist all around me.

The land is full of grain and riches abound, and yet the souls of the people are starving. There is a hunger that the knowledge of man cannot feed nor can a full belly abate the desire. The word has been driven from the eye and the ear, the tongue that speaks the truth has been placed in silence. The proclamation of the good news is far from the minds of the people, having been set aside for other desires. The next new thing or shiny object has replaced love and kindness. The streets run red with blood while people wander in confusion seeking the truth but finding it not, as they hunger in a famine for the bread of life.

Wrapped in my cape, adoring my princely crown, as I command my subjects who purr and roll around. Lazily the ***** of fluff proclaim my greatness as loyal subjects the adore me and show me adoration as I make proclamations of great importance. In sequence they mewl and rub my legs and feet one by one. Awaiting my command or at least a treat to make them full. So on I go surveying my subjects, as each sits before me feasting on a bowl of gratitude. A feast set before those who are loyal to me, as there prince. The divine cats of my realm, who show loyalty every time they are fed by me.

I walk through the house and I hear voices and laughter. I turn down the covers and your pillow is wrinkled. I look in the mirror and I see a glimpse of you. I cry into my hands and wonder how I could have been such a fool. I hear footsteps coming up behind me. I catch your scent on a gentle breeze. I spend long nights missing your embrace, I wonder why I didn't see. Now my bedroom is haunted with your memory. Your ghost haunts me and reminds me of my mistakes. The memory will forever haunt, it is perhaps more than I can take.

Strands of wire lie rusting in a heap. Pieces of someones history pulled apart by time and circumstance. Angry words and unhealed wounds leave the fence in tatters. Sometimes the pieces must be picked up. With a strong resolve and a lot of sweat, slowly the strands are woven back together. Some are patched and some new pieces are added. Until the fence is strong and vibrant again. From pole to pole, from friend to friend.,the fences are mended and made right. Now things are as they should be. Past mistakes are forgiven, wounds are healed and the open holes in the fences are fixed for good.

Lift your spirits and lighten your load. Lay down your burdens in a glass of cheer. Celebrate your life for a little while, give your voice to a friendly ear. Let the foam tickle your nose and put your money down. Give an extra shilling and watch the bar maid smile. Tomorrow is not promised or so I have been told. So lets have one more for the road.

You start out with a fantastic plan, then get distracted by teenage lust. You fall into young adulthood and end up with a little you. Your college fund is now your mortgage payment. A minivan just replaced your 2 door coupe and your sweetheart isn't a beauty queen anymore. !2 hour days are your normal routine and your money just doesn't seem to go as far as you thought. Your spring break to Cancun is the last taste of real freedom you had, but you wish you could remember more of it. Suddenly, your 30 and there are now 2 replicas of you. You get up one day and find that spandex in your pants is not a bad thing. The only exercise you seem to get is when you walk the dog that isn't anything you have bought. So you struggle to get back on track, but the rails keep slipping out from under your feet. Finally you enter a crisis that they say happens at midlife, but you think that your midlife was at 20. So at last things begin to make sense, just as you try to buy a coupe again, only to find that you are too wide to fit behind the wheel. All of these things are your fault, your kids and wife had no part in it. When you finally collapse from the exhaustion of all of this, you wake up and find it is only a dream. The tequila has worn off and you are once again 18. In 5 minuets you forget what you have learned, but somewhere in the back of your mind a road map has been drawn. The question is do you follow it or not.

Tired and despondent I scream at the night. Overrun by the hoards of angry voices on my t.v. . I clamor for a place only to be shut out, I am tired and I will not be silent yet again. Joining with like minded people, I rise up against a corrupt and broken system. I rage and rattle the doors to my cage. I am the one who makes the machine work, those at the top only pull leavers. The cogs must turn in order for things to function, when one cog stops, perhaps it is ignored, but when several seize up, the machinery comes to a screeching halt. This time is different, this time the system must pay heed. The old masters have been dealt a critical blow. Those of us who are under the levers of the operators have decided that we will not be ignored again. The wheels come to a screeching halt and the noises of the parts of the machine will not be silenced again.

Pumpkins are carved with frightful shapes. Old curtains are hung up like ghostly phantoms. Candles burn in window sills. The pail light of the moon shines down on bails of hay, in barren fields. The wind takes on a certain chill. A cat screeches in the darkness, children put on mask and prepare for trick or treat. Cauldrons boil and monster howl, parties are filled with frightful sounds. All things that you will see, if you dare to venture out on all hallows eve.

An old Gray headed man told me about his life. He spoke of sorrow and joy. He told me of good times and bad. He spoke of having nothing and having more than enough. A journey that was condensed into a few hours, covered eighty some odd years of memory. In the words of wisdom spoken from a weather worn traveler, there were sign post. Honesty was always his hallmark, keeping of your word was important. Hard work never killed anyone, it made you appreciative of the things you earned. Patients wasn't given it was learned, only the passing of time can teach you that. You don't have to be old and Gray to gain wisdom, just remember the lessons learned the hard way and you will be smart enough. Though he is long since gone on to his final reward, the path that he spoke of is still there before me. I just have to chose to heed his advice and walk it the way he did.

I took my oath without reservation and I swore to defend my nations. Following in the footsteps of family before me. I ask no special treatment, you may never now my name. While you were sleeping one night, I was keeping watch faraway. When danger knocked at the door, I was there to answer the call. To remind the enemies of your freedom that I will defend you even if I fall. Though you and I might not agree or see things the same way. I and my forebears offered our lives to ensure that you may peacefully live as you see fit. So take heart  and be of good cheer, for when the threat of danger is near. We will be there to guard the gate and keep our country free.

On the scale off of the scale. Up and down my weight goes! I can see my toes I can't see my toes. Up and down my weight goes! No red meat all vegetables, cook them no eat them raw. Cleanse now don't cleanse. Up one size now down two. Work out all cardio no go back to weights. I lost 4 inches but gained 10 pounds. Up and down the struggle goes. So many diets, so many plans. It is enough to make you depressed and binge eat. On and On I go, doing a two step with my weight and self esteem. Twirling around in a dizzying diet dance. I'm so frustrated I just want some chocolate cake!

Tying a silver cord from the lesser light, I cast the line towards a distant star but catch a comet by the tail. It pulls me up as I grab a mountain top to hold on to the earth. I am drawn into the celestial realm as the catch seeks to get away. I feel the line go taught behind me as the man in the moon pulls on the silver twine. Together we haul in the shooting star and decide it is not quiet big enough to keep, so we let it sail on it's way. Now as I sit with the man in the moon, I wonder just how I will get back home?

If I held the power and could build an army, I would not create soldiers with guns. I would take the young children and begin to educate them. I would teach them to speak a language other than their own. I would raise them to be helpful and to understand kindness. I would develop their talents each and every one. When they were grown, I would send them forth to do the work that needed to be done. My army would be teachers, engineers and healers. They would bring mercy and light into the world. They would speak to others in there own tongue and show them how to care for themselves. They would mend the sick and build new and amazing things. This is the army that I would build.

As the heat of the summer fades away, I long for the north wind to find me. The days are long but fading, and the stars are beginning to seep through the twilight. Leaves begin to lose their tinges of green and turn to colors of the rainbow. Flip flops are to be replaced with fur lined boots and ice tea with warm coco. The nights will become longer and rest much sweeter. The days labors will not be so long. I will once again get to sit quietly by a fire wrapped in a blanket and the arms of someone I love. Through a large window, I will peer into the heavens and count the stars as they dance quietly as I fall into warm dreams. All things will quietly settle down and the world will take on the appearance of rest when winter comes.

Childhood was supposed to be play, until they took mommy and daddy away. Strangers came in and life suddenly changed. There were no locked doors, everything is theirs not yours. Home was supposed to be a safe place, but mommy and daddy had to go away. You were supposed to be loved, you weren't supposed to be hurt. Bruises were not supposed to come from the hands that were supposed to care. Happy times are gone, and tears are all that remain. Now that you are in a strange place, since they took mommy and daddy away. I was told I shouldn't tell, but someone was going to see. The marks and scars couldn't be hidden forever you see. So now its just a waiting game, to see if someone wants me. Perhaps there is a loving family who wants someone like me. Then the nightmare will be over and I will again want to play, just like I did before they took mommy and daddy away.

The water is crystal clear and the air is like the first day. The sun shines brightly and war and disease has gone away. Hunger is a distant memory and we all age with grace. We live to see our children's, children's children come to the fullness of age. Sharing is common place and no one lacks anything. We have gone beyond the confines of our world and discovered new things. Tomorrow seem so very far away, but in truth a new tomorrow can start right now today.

We put down roots and try to blossom into a life. We try to create a thing of beauty. Then we want to have children just as a flower puts forward buds. We live for a season then we must pass and be renewed.

A broken *** shattered and scattered into pieces that are strewn everywhere. Oil and water that cannot mix together and will not coexist. So are the ideologies of humanity, the things we think are important to us. That which we feel we must scream at another in order to get them to understand in truth is of little consequence. If one way is right and another wrong, then let them exist side by side and see which bears the fruit of success. If we cannot agree on even existence with tolerance, then we are a house divided and to null effect for we shall both come to nothing and fail in the end.

Placation of the masses, that is the job of spin. Being the face of the bureaucracy, a focal point. Easy on the eyes, soft spoken in words. Not of harsh temperament, but long suffering of angry people. Able to turn a phrase without thinking about why it is being done. Speaking in critical terms, but not being direct to question others. Simply working with inferences of what you want others to think. Such is the way of the useful idiot, who lives through political speak.

Over sparsely trodden paths I walk seeking the road less traveled. Looking always to the next horizon my souls finds no settled peace. I must walk on for adventure awaits and the unknown beckons. So on I will wander until I find what will give me peace.

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.

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.

To ask a question of oneself is to begin understanding. To ask a question of another is to seek wisdom. To offer help to another without thought of ones self is the rendering of mercy. To give freely without concern of your own person is to achieve selflessness. To resist oppression is to show strength. To seek justice is to find a truth. To know that we are imperfect, is the beginning of humility. To apply these things to ones life is learning how to live.

I am not skilled yet, but I one day will be. I have much to learn in how to use the gifts that have been given to me. I sometimes feel that I am not ready to move on to the next place. I often question what I have done, and wonder if I have made a mistake. I want to be better than I was before. I would like to learn so much more. I refine my gifts each day as if I am repainting on the same canvas. Each time the picture becomes a little clearer. I am beholden to the master for his instruction. I want to be as good some day. First I must learn patients and then faith. Both of these things are essential to my success. When I have acquired both, then perhaps I will be ready. I will be able to step out on my own. Holding fast to the lessons learned from the master, and becoming a teacher myself.