Life is a puzzle that we have to put together. The pieces do not always fit the way they think they should. One part seems to go one way, then a different piece comes from somewhere else to take it's place. Try as we might, we cannot figure out the whole picture. Only in bits and pieces do we get to put a life together. Sometimes we must take the puzzle apart and try to fit the pieces together again. The only thing of which we can be sure, is that we can only put life's puzzle together one piece at a time.

There are lots of ugly weeds in the places of the world. They are born from seeds of hate and ignorance. I will come on a journey and plant seeds of hope and service. Giving to others to help lift them up. I will be a light and shine in the dark places. I will seek to make better the lives of as many as I can. I will hold fast to the hope that each life I can touch will be for the good and not the ill. Offering a future of prosperity and accomplishment instead of one of death and misery. Helping others to make life beautiful again.

I look at a sea of Orange across a Pumpkin Patch. I watch stacks of corn stalks shaking in the wind. In bare feet I walk upon the cool dark earth and I shiver slightly as it passes between my toes. I look out in the distance and watch children at play around an old scarecrow. I feel a rush from the north wind and I see falling leaves blown in all directions as they carpet the ground in a canvas of color. I immerse myself in all that I see with fond memories of riding on a tractor with my grandfather. I feel the golden Autumn sun as it touches my face and I once again take comfort in lost innocence with memories of harvest time.

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.

Beaten with stripes of a sinner, bruised as a reed beneath the heel of oppression. Crowned with mocking thorns, hanged on a tree for our sins. Unjustly persecuted and reviled, the lord gave up all. On the cross he surrendered to his affliction, abandoned even by the father above. By his affliction we find redemption in Christ undying love.

People scream for help but it falls on deaf ears. The rulers adorn themselves in finery but abhor the unwashed masses. In fortified cities that gleam of white marble and steel, they make plans and dictate what they think life should be, while outside the high walls and vaulted towers, the reality of life is ignored. Who cares about high ideals when you have nothing to eat. What are principled arguments when a baby is sick and dying? The people speak but they will not hear, the poor complain but they will not see. So why won't they listen, who can really say?

Taught to hustle at an early age. Learned the code of silence and a gangsters ways. Making money as fast as I can. You got to have a gun to become a man. Hoping not to die before I reach seventeen. Trying to forget some of the things I have seen. Living my life by the hustlers code, giving nothing and taking what ever I want. Let others sacrifice for the state, getting what I want cannot wait. Learning hard lessons just to survive, having to grow up street wise.

In a desolate waste where little life can exist, skeletons of what was once great litter the landscape. Remnants of iron beast sit and rust under a pail sun. The cold wind chaps the fractured frames of buildings long since abandon. What few people that are left shuffle through the desert that once was prosperous. They shiver at the rattle of metal carcasses that shake and quake as their last few welds and bolts begin to corrode apart. In what was once mighty city, before it was gutted by political leeches, many look  on in despair as what is left of hope fades away.

My nose is cold, my heart is warm. My fur gets matted and I like to chew. My favorite play thing is your best pair of shoes. I will wait for you endlessly until you get home. I am always happy to see you, no matter what the hour of the day. I love tummy rubs and long walks where you talk endlessly about nothing. I suffer being dressed up as a party guest or riding to save the day, when bandits steal the princess and it is time to play. In all things I am a loyal  trooper to the end. I am your beloved doggie, truly your best friend.

Locked in a cold Grey room. Walls of cement and steel. I look through the bars as I hear time creep past. I hate my life and wish to end the loneliness. I made mistakes and now I am paying the price. I sit here while others are out having life. I have broken and shattered the peach of others. Now I sit here in my own version of a personal hell. I sparsely have any freedom, trapped in my prison cell.

Looking into a mirror, I see my beauty fading. My eyes are showing signs of age. Youth is fleeting and my bones ache. A soul that was once vigorous is now weary. My hair has lost it's luster and I get cold all of the time. The warm sun does little to give me comfort,the bright light hurts my eyes. Loud noises disturb me and I just want to sleep. What has come over me I cannot say. The doctor can find nothing wrong, and yet my spirit finds no joy in life. If nothing changes I will just waste away. Were it over quickly, it would be a blessing, but unless I can will myself to cease to exist, I will suffer a slow death as my spirit loses the will to live.

Giving flowers to a friend for no reason. Encouraging someone who feels they have reached a crossroad. Reminding someone that they are loved. These are simple acts of kindness that are part of giving joy.

The world is filled with trouble as those who cling to the past gasp at the dying of some old ways. Knowledge increases and new things are imagined everyday. Some want to go backwards and take us with them, while others create the future and seek to better the world. Two arguments are being made, but only one can win out. All things that are past cannot be forgotten, but they will not stop progress. Tomorrow will arrive and become today. New ideas will flourish and amazing things will come to pass. Those who refuse to change will be left behind as the rest of us move forward and see what tomorrow brings.

Stick me with a pin and roll me around to make sure I am cold. Shed no tears for me, but throw me a party. Call all of my friends and spend what I have left you. Celebrate who I was for now I am gone. Remember me fondly and try not to over do it. I would like to see you again, just not that soon. So let the music play and let your heart be glad. I have lived my life and now when it is said and done. Let all who care to throw a wake for me and wish me well now that I have moved on.

The gardens in my castle are filled with all kind of exotic flowers. The water from my fountains is purer than a new mountain snow. I am adored by all who know me and I can do no wrong. My touch can turned the gloomiest frown into a joyful smile. I know what each person needs and can give their wish with no effort at all. All of my foes succumb to my graces and refuse to fight. Such is the wonder of the imagined life.

In an array of bright colors in the light of the morning sun, when the cool air begins to fade and the fog lifts leaving dew drops on the petals of flowers that form a tapestry of color. The sky becomes bright with layers of color as butterflies rise on warm air. Swirling too and froe in the wisp of air, they leap from flower to flower taking great care. They land on dew drops that hang like jewels glistening in the days new light. As they finish on one blossom they rise to seek another, creating a winged rainbow as they dodge in and out between one another. Thus is a symphony formed on the warm summer breeze, with the dance of the butterflies and they live for a beautiful short moment in the sun.

Rusted cars in over grown fields, and abandoned cotton mills. Creeks that run cold and deep under old rustic bridges. Dirt roads and open fields that seem to run forever and go no where. Cottonwood trees and Magnolias, that fill the air with fragrance and dampness after the rain. Children chasing each other in a game of tag beneath a Willow tree. The smell of fried chicken and fresh bread at Sunday supper. Time moving slow as the sun sets over history. A land not in a hurry to change. This is the place of my birth, this is my Southern legacy.

Myself, myself oh frustration with myself. I am my own worst enemy. I find that I'm my own worst critic. I am always the most critical and angry with myself.

Reaching into the sky grasping at the nothingness. Pulling on a string and watching a kite sail. Running into the breeze but holding nothing nothing. Drawing a sail to its full height and feeling the motion pushing my boat forward. Jumping off a mountain top and letting a glider dive then push up with the draft from the valley below. Rising into the sun before zipping past the clouds. Wrapping myself and the one I love in a blanket as the cold ocean breeze blows through her hair. Catching the wind in so many ways and enjoying the nothingness of it's existence as it fully touches my life.

A Sequoya tree can live a thousand years, some turtles live to be 200 hundred. A mountain sits  for a million years and makes no effort to measure time. In the life of mortal souls we are but a glimmer of light. Yet we live as if we will not ever finish all of our work, before the sun sets on our lives. What is important, what is really of worth. How can we understand what we should wait for and what should be done now. We are human and impatient creatures with no concept of the meaning of tomorrow. For what seems important to us can fade as the glimmer of light that we are in the existence of the greater scheme of things. All we as mortal souls can hope for is to make each day our own. We must take little steps towards learning to wait for some of the most exquisite things that our lives have to give.  So be patient, the best is yet to come.

To each of us there is a refuge, for each of us there is a safe harbor. To others it is not always obvious, but in a quiet place we find comfort. To some it may be faith, to others a good book. To some their labors for the good of others is a gateway to peace, while others may seek to do nothing but reflect on their inner selves. What ever your refuge, each of us has a place where we find hidden solace from our troubles.

Burning with a passionate fire, revenge is going to be sweet! When he sees what he is missing, his jaw will drop to his feet. After weeks of preparation, and mascara that ran all day. I am stepping out tonight and its time for him to pay. In a dress he would never buy me, and an exciting pair of dancing shoes. I am going to strut my stuff and leave him singing the blues. I am going to be someone's eye candy. A hot looking potential trophy wife. I am going to rub his nose in it, you can bet your life! With a diamond white smile and lips of luscious red! I am going to put on a show that will knock him dead. Where I wake up in the morning will depend on how the night life goes. He will feel the heat of a woman scorned as he imagines someone else helping me out of my clothes.

On the open water, waves crashing around the hull. Pulling the wheel and turning tight to catch the wind. The single sail rises full and the canvas glistens against the sun. It is in these moments that I can clear my mind. No power to guide me, just the will of the wind to drive me. I am at the mercy of the air and the sea. Beneath the open sky feeling the salt spray and the warmth of the sun, here is where I relish my solitude.

The snow has lost it's luster and the winter has stayed too long. That which was beauty is now cold and uninviting. Oh how I miss the song birds and the soft gentle breezes, for now is the season that the grip of sleep must relent on the earth and the new life must come forth. So I will sit idly by my window and watch the sun cast an even longer shadow as the ice melts drip by drip from the trees. Until I can see the ground again, I will be waiting on the Clover to let me know it is spring.

I cannot eat one bite of food. My stomach is tied in knots and sleep has not been my friend. I wrestle with my emotions and the emptiness that I feel inside. I am tossed about like a ship on the ocean as I suffer through each day in misery. I long for rest and understanding, but no one seems to be able to relate to how I feel. So I will drift along the shore of emotional despair, looking for a safe harbor where I can find emotional stability and shelter from the storm of confusion that now consumes my life.

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.

In a dark corner of Washington filled with ghostly Grey light, the remnants of could have and should have been lie in dusty heaps. The hollow and empty skeletons of forgotten political careers. Where all would be great leaders careers go to die. A place filled with forgotten slogans and scandal ridden files filled with half truths. Ghost haunt this place whaling and bemoaning their ends. Where never a thought is given to those who ran and lost. The political bone yard is a reminder to all would be giants, of just how far one can fall into obscurity and to what end a political career can come.

Glistening on the runway, turning for a profile, walking up and down in heels, this is just our style. Immersed in glamor, should I wear sequins or a backless dress? It can be quite confusing, I must confess! Hair styled in unbelievable ways, often defying gravity thanks to enough hair spray. Eyeliner and rouge to highlight the correct lines on a model's face. The lighting must be perfect, everything is in its place. The DJ gets the cue and the music gets to start. The curtain opens and everybody plays their part. Delighted fans take pictures and get lost for a while. They have to come here to see what near perfection can be achieved with a proper sense of fashion and style.

Looking up at a single pine tree growing out of a crevice. I find where I shall stop to rest in the shade. Just three thousand feet straight up, I grab the face of the sheer rock face and begin my climb. Pulling up with hands coated in white sticky powder, I feel the sweat begin to roll off of my brow. This is what I have been waiting for, this is that for which I trained. My ascent begins one foot at a time. I do not look back, I only look up, focusing on the lone pine tree that waits for me. With each and every hand hold, I rise another foot up the sheer incline. Not knowing how far I have come or how far I have to go. I only hug the cool face of the rock and pretend that I am one with it. Higher and higher I go, leaving the safety of level ground. The sun ascends with me, marking my progress with my own shadow, as if I were some kind of human hour glass. Then at a moment when my muscles ache and I am sweating beyond belief, a limb brushes my face and I reach my first goal. I slide up into the crevice and lay back under the shade of my new friend. I drink water that I have brought on the ascent. I gather my strength and sit contemplating that there are easier paths to self discovery, but ease of the journey is simply perspective and I still have half a mountain to climb.

When you see an old woman stranded with a flat and you change it for her and ask nothing in return. When you take food to a neighbor who is down on their luck and leave it without a note. When you just sit and listen to someone's problems and do not say a word. When you give a few dollars that you can spare to a cause just because it feels right. When you think of the welfare of another with no thought for yourself. When an innocent man dies for all of humanity, with no one to help him out. These are some of the things that are God's love.

Starlings chirp and call to each other as they dance on the wind. Robins sing and chirp among the greening branches of a Willow tree. Little Chickadees sing a bright tune as they play among the thorny leaves of an evergreen Holly. The wind whistles through the tree tops and the sound of a 1000 Sparrows comes alive as an orchestra. Music is alive in the world, we just often fail to take the time to hear it.

When I was young and full of wonder, I set out to change the world. I went forth to make things right only to find that life got in my way. As I struggled along my path, I found my goals fleeting. Until one day I looked into the mirror and saw my hair had began to turn Grey. In this moment I felt as though I had failed in my hope. So I resigned myself that it could not be done. As I lay down to rest one evening, my eyes fluttered with sleep. As the shades of night fell over my face, I felt myself pushed backwards. I woke up to the sight of a younger version of myself as I helped a woman cross the street with her children. I saw her look back in gratitude as she walked away. I then moved forward to a house that I helped build. It was a small home, but it was given to a family in need. As I lay there dreaming, I saw the path of my life with each passing day. I noticed little things I had done along the way. Helping people in some small way, I awaken with a new found knowledge, I truly had changed the world, but not as I had envisioned with a grand plan or ingenious scheme, but simply by being there with kindness, to help one person at a time.

Burn in tribulation and let the fire purge your soul! Walk into the flames of trial and let yourself be made stronger. Let the old constructs be destroyed and new ones be forged from the molten core of your being. Become as Gold or Silver from the smelter. Dust off the afflictions and take your place in a new creation, where you will become what you are destine to be.

The cold air fills your lungs and the snow blows up around you. From the top of a peak, you look down on an ocean of white. Setting your sights on the far run below, you jump up and tear out into the white sea. Swishing this way and that into the cold powder, you come alive hitting bumps and taking the air like an unguided missile. You crash down with a crunch and cut through the layers of frozen covering as you head for the valley below. With the anticipation of a child on Christmas morning, you feel the wonderful delight as you finish your run. Then you look back over the land and see the trail you blazed, then you inhale the thick richness of the cold air and head back up the mountain with anticipation of doing it again.

I look in the mirror and I don't like what I see. For years I have done what others wanted. I have been something I am not. Well today that all ends, I will no longer conform. I am tired of being hungry so I can fit into clothes that I do not like. I will no longer walk in shoes that are uncomfortable to me. I will eat until I am satisfied and wear my hear how I please. I will gains some weight if I want to and feel good in my own skin. I will voice my opinion even if others do not agree. Today I am reinventing myself, today I will finally be me.

I am an idea that takes hold in the heart of one person. I am the desire to be free from oppression. I am the need to succeed and prosper. I am the loyal solider who holds the banner of the cause even when it seems that it is lost. I am the one who teaches another what they do not know. I am the voice of reason in the world of insanity. I am a force of one person, but I am the ideal that lives in many.

Shaved ice falls down upon me as blue streaks melt out of my hair. The sea thunders on rocks that form a jetty and I walk in silence with nary a care. The heat of the sun seems unbearable to some, but it makes me feel alive. Though the heat can be torturous to some, it keeps me sane. The board walk gets hot and burns my feet, but it is just another reminder that I am real. These days I need much more of that than usual , if it is only pain, I am just glad I can still feel something.

If there were no America, freedom would not ring. If it was never born, there would be no from sea to shining sea. If there were no America, the world would be ruled by despots and monarchies. If there were no America, millions would have died in vain. If there were no America, oppression would be the law of the land. If there were no America, things would be really bad. All of the freedoms that millions of people hold dear, would have never been imagined, if America were not here. So to those who hate the idea of the land of the free and the home of the brave, live one year in another place and see what they crave. While there are many other lands, there is not nor will there ever be, a place like America, where people are truly free.

Our bodies are far apart and yet are souls are knitted together. We said we would not part, but that was in another forever. I long to hold you and feel your gentle touch. Yet all I get to hold is empty space and it tears my heart to pieces all of the time. I know that you are frustrated, well so am I, but what can two people but slowly watch time pass by? I promise that this distance will not diminish how I feel. I want you to always know that my love for you is true. Until I can bridge the distance between us, I am not sure what else I can do.

Curds and Whey taken from churned milk. Filling molds and sitting in the dark. Taking on distinctive flavors and unusual shapes. Turning into colors and hues of every imaginable kind. Some are delicate and some are full of holes. Some are briskly sharp and some will take your breath away. Some are well aged and come are only a few weeks old. Some are the stuff of legend or nightmare depending on your pallet. Cheese, a delicacy shared by both kings and commoners. Versatile and useful, cheese.

I cast off the main line and pull the anchor up. I turn the rudder hard out to sea. The canvas is unfurled and the sail blooms full on. Her majestic colors can be seen on the horizon. The hull is smooth and trim, taking on the white breakers. I push on as I head for the trades. Down south where the water is Emerald green and the beaches are white and pure. I have broken the shackles of the mundane life that held me fast. No more time tables or deadlines to meet. On fast moving currents into open oceans I go. I find the sun setting and it takes my breathe away. The first star of the evening marks my path as I head to adventures unknown. Forgetting my cares and not worrying about tomorrow, I live for the here and now. I watch as my sail turn full to the south and the trade winds catch me, homeward bound to a place I have never lived, finally just slipping away.

Stepping into the heights of heaven, I walk along the misty ways. Where Eagles fly and the sun shines just a little brighter. From on a high peak where few will ever walk, I look back on the problems I left below. In quiet solitude I travel in contemplation of things that I want to know. I search for answers in the sky and the land around me. As I watch nature, I see that my footprints fade with each step, as I travel through the mountain mist, and leave no footprints in the clouds.

My veins burn, they are on fire. I feel the rush as the pain goes away. Everything is not all right, I am high once again. I can only go a day or so before I have to get it again. It takes part of my life from me, but I cannot do without it. I have tried to put it down, but it has a hold on me. At first, it was something to do with friends, now I need it to live. What was I thinking when I started this? Someone said let's have some fun. I was all right on my own, I didn't need it, I just wanted to fit in. Now I am addicted and I can't break the chains. I am a prisoner to my own desires to feel high and forget about the pain that comes when I try to break free. Addicted to something, that has taken so much from me.

There was a skinny girl who didn't eat too much. She was never satisfied with how she looked. Despite being really thin, she tried to be skinnier,eating only what she needed to stay alive. She got to a point where she was as thin as a nail, but still she wasn't satisfied. Then one day she went to her mirror to see what she looked like. When she tried to look at herself, she found that she was finally so thin, that she could only see herself if she turned sideways.

Water drips down from a damp rocky face. Drip, drop, plop it goes. Settling into  small pool far down in a mossy spot below. The water drops until the pool overflows and trickles down over small rocks. The trickle moves on quietly, gurgling slightly every once and a while. It simply moves forward slowly, not knowing where it must go. As the former drops move as a trickle, they join with other trickles that become a stream. The stream washes over rocks and through crevices in a mountain pass. The flow moves on to be a river which becomes mighty and a force to be reckoned with. Even if it is dammed up, it is only for a while, then it proceeds on again. This is the way of movement or ideas. They start small, but are joined into the thoughts and spirits of others until the must be reckoned with and often bring a force for change, what ever that change may be.

On a cobblestone street in a quiet part of Savannah the rain cleanses away the dust and opens up the senses. When I walk down the old path, I smell the fragrant scent of Jasmine after the spring rains. Memories rush back to better days and to light hearted times where love was not a stranger to me. When a special person held my heart before she gave it away. To be caught in the moment with the scent of youthful joy only comes when the southern Jasmine gives remembrance to me.

Feelings mingled with fire burn the skies blood Red! The bridal bed forsaken, the groom lies dead! White turned to Crimson before the wedded bliss was sealed! She never agreed to be a part in this deal! So now she flees the wrath of those who would hunt her down! Still filled with rage, she sheds her clothing like a second skin. Baring all for the world to see, she jumps into the sea. Behind her lays revenge and sorrow, fueled by rage she seeks her own tomorrow! No bargain will determine her fate! If it is death then so be it, but vengeance will have to wait! Born again across another border, she climbs out of the chilling water beyond the reach of her persecutors! Into the arms of a waiting true love, he takes her to a secret place and there a bond is made! Ever should he show her his loyalty, lest he feels the wrath of a scorned woman's blade!

Oh ****** tree that is reviled and stands alone among the sinner. Oh wretched plank upon which the perfect Lamb was slain. If you only knew the burden that you bore, you would crack and splinter asunder. Upon your rough limbs was hung the most precious of all things. The blood that covers you was for cleansing and sins burden was placed upon the shoulders of the man who was hung upon you. So now is the moment, when the blood and water flowed from the side of the innocent that you bore up. So now let you oh ****** tree, become an emblem of forgiveness and victory for the hour of atonement has come.

Rising up like an unsure Eagle testing the wind for the first time, children walk on unsteady legs of youth. Leaping out into life's currents they may jump back to the safety of their nest unsure if they are ready for a solo flight. Little by little they will step forward until like the Eagle they are soaring on the wind, sometimes they will encounter turbulence but eventually they will soar free and in time they will watch their own progeny follow on as they did, at first unsure when spreading their own wings.

Running away from my fears, I crawl deep inside of myself, only to be confronted with conscience. I am forced to deal with what I have locked away. It terrifies me and I look for another place to hide. In plain sight I look for ways to avoid having the conversation with myself. Try as I might, the voices inside of me, won't let me avoid the confrontation. So I use what ever I can to distract myself in order to escape confronting my own demons that have been demanding resolution for so long.