The path of least resistance may seem like the easiest one to take. The dark road may cover up our sins for a while, but sooner or later we shall run out of path and end up in a pit. So is it not better to walk in the lighted path where you can see the traps and avoid falling into the pit?

Equality must be legislated and religion should stay in church. Doing what feels good can't be wrong. Freedom of speech is all right, as long as no one can dissent. It is my body and my choice. I should be able to love whom or what I like, and consequences should not matter. People who make lots of money need to be better at sharing. If I don't like how you live, then you must accommodate me. Oh how wonderful living in a left of center world must be?

Into each others arms we are swept. Embracing as two hearts beat in unison. Holding each other as only lovers can. We feel the warmth of each others spirit as our souls unite. In the falling of twilight we embrace in a closeness that few can know. We become shadows in the fading of day. Let us dance into love in our own special way.

The water falls as black as night. The sky blocks out the sun. The ground looks as if it is covered in liquid soot. The rain flows into the streams and lakes, turning them to the color of oil. Life is choked out of the world. We sit quietly and watch as we cannot take a drink. It is as if heavens tears mourn for our impending death. Down the rain falls, covering everything. The trees, the grass and our homes. The rain has become black because of our own legacy, our unwillingness to find a new way to live.

Sit quietly upon a rock and close your eyes. Hear the sound of the water flowing over stones and around curvy banks. Hear ducks quacking and splashing in the water. Listen to a frog croaking on a Lillie pad. Hear the distant call of a squirrel as it races from tree to tree along the muddy banks as deep cool water flows by. Become part of nature, if just for a little while. Listen to what the river says as the water speaks to you and the different creatures that live because of it tell you their stories, each in their own unique way.

I rest under the starry sky in your arms. I feel your warmth and I am blessed. At the coming of  day I must leave you, no matter how much I would like to stay. I long to hold you always and I pray that night will never end. Though I know that I must be to my labors that I will relish when I can hold you again. So in obedience to heavens dictates, I must work with my hands. At first light I will be going, though I profess that it is more than I can stand. So to heaven I commit you my love and ask that your kept safe while I am away. Until the shades of night are falling and I can hold you again.

A mother leaves her children in a hot car and gets by with their death. I person tells someone God bless you and gets sent to jail. Someone paints a building with graffiti and the owner is called a hate monger for not loving art, when he tries to clean his building. A person speaks their mind in a peaceful protest and they are called a bigot, people riot and burn down a city block and they are called misunderstood. Why do wicked person thrive and those of good nature and righteous intent suffer?

Oh let my soul be down cast and let the lord be set upon high. Let the mountains tremble at his coming. Let me be as the dust and he as the  mighty Eagle that takes flight as the wind. Let my soul contemplate the ways of my goings and comings and meditate on the instruction of the lords wisdom. Let my soul lament it's folly and sing in the morning with the new day the praises of the lord of host. Let me seek out the council of the lord in humility and with reverence beg his pardon, that I might find rest all of the days of my life.

Breathe deep and hold it fast. Sit in total silence for a moment. Listen to your heart beat then release and let your soul fill again. Life starts back and the heart settles from racing. In that single moment you ended and started again. Hold your breath, and just listen.

I will make my own mistakes, I will walk the path that I choose. I will have regrets, joy and fears. I will learn as I go and learn from others on the way. I will fill the pages of the book of my life. Whether it will be a Sonnet or a Tragedy, who can say. I will only know when I reach the end. I will hope to give more than I take and to be a giver of kindness instead of hate. I will be disagreeable and shall have to live and let live. I will hold true to myself and what I believe is right. I will strive to stay the course, even when others fall away. I know that things will not always be easy, but they may yet be worth the struggle. I will be my own person writing my own story.

The lines have been drawn between rich and poor and black and white. We are separated by ideologies and theologies. The power brokers want discord the war mongers want to prophet from our misery. When we are divided they get rich off of our suffering and tell us they will resolve our issues. The true division lies with in ourselves and only we can solve the problems. Help another build a home. Cook a meal for a neighbor. Get to know people whom you have never met then they will not be a stranger. Set up your own way of being kind, mend broken fences and cross over the diving line.

The spirit of God cannot be quenched, but the physical world could not withstand it. It is not as physical fire but yet it consumes. It purges sin and convicts the sinner of their unholy ways. To those who receive the forgiveness, it refines their soul like precious silver or gold, but to those who reject the ways of God, it destroys them with guilt and consumes them from with in until there is nothing left of who they were.

I have walked across dusty fields and have broken hard and rocky ground. I have toiled under the burning sun and have never seen a harvest. I open up paths and plant a few seed here and there, then I move on to the next patch of ground. My hands are fixed to the plow and I cannot turn back. I have taken on the task and I must follow it to the end. Though in the present I will not know what comes behind me, a time will come when I will see the work I have done. When my last furrow is cut and I lay the yoke of the plow down, I will wipe away the dust of life's journey. I will then see the workers laboring in the fields behind me, reaping from what I have sewn when God says its harvest time.

If I were to chance upon God and he would sit for a while. I would buy him a drink, just like a regular guy. I hear he is partial to wine, or at least that's what the  bible says . He even changed the water into some, so the story goes. I would not care what it cost, for it would be a once in a life time chance. To sit down with the all mighty and have a chat over a few drinks. I am not sure what I would ask first, but then what could I  really say. I mean he knows what your thinking, so perhaps we would just drink. Then I would sit quietly and listen to what he had to say and perhaps I would see he is quiet a good fellow, if I could buy God a drink.

Take the hair from that person and the voice from that one. Put them into my frame and take the smile from another one. A cut here a nip there and soon I am not what I was. I have redone the portrait that heaven painted in me, all for my own vanity.

My eyes are dry and my soul is empty. I weep until the ground is white with salt. Perhaps it would be better if I could drown in my own sorrow. Perhaps if I could remove my emotions, then I would be as the dead. Where ever I go I bring sorrow. I can even darken the Sun. So I will go and find a place of seclusion and there in the dark I will weep. Then the tears that I cry will harm no one but myself and perhaps if I am alone I will simply fade away.

In the windy city on the shores of lake Michigan, the streets are Crimson with innocent blood. The princes and potentates that laud themselves over the general populace pull the wealth out of the city and impose byzantine rule on the innocent and the deprived. While they sit in ivory towers and refuse to see the war that people wage on each other. Violence seems to be the only cure for poverty, as well intentioned efforts on the way to the hell that their leaders have created have failed. So in the end, who is guilty of the streets of such a great city being filled with innocent blood?

Which people are real, can anyone really tell. Are they the ones we see on our TV's that feign drama and Botox injected smiles. Are real people the ones we see in the check out line. Waiting impatiently for an overworked cashier to ring up their over priced goods. Who are real people, where can we find them. Must we go to a far off land where war and poverty exist like a scene out of some horror show? Perhaps the answer is all of this and none of it. In a way these people are real at least to themselves and when they take off the mask behind which they hide, the real people that they become are revealed. Only those in their inner circles see the truth. For reality is what we perceive, and people are real in their existence, but they play a charade for others so we only see what they want us to believe is real.

Killing is rampant in the streets. Protest are ending in violence. Starvation and poverty are rampant as a divide becomes greater by the day. Life is without answers and we refuse to follow the lessons of history. We will not look back in order to move forward. In all great civilizations, a defining point is reached. At the precipice of growth something must change. When the arch that holds up the foundations of the society finally gives under it's own weight. All that remains is to sift to the ruble and see what is left after the smoke clears. Governments and armies will disappear, while the remnants of those from the edges survive. Who knows what the breaking point will be, but if history is to be are teacher, it will not be long before it comes.

All that come into the world must walk a path. At the beginning we are guided by others and circumstance, then we choose our own directions. In the end we all end in the same place, some sooner than others. In between, the things we do are what make the journey. In looking back, we can see a life of service or one of selfishness. We can see a legacy or a tragedy. We do not always get to choose every direction, some times choices are made for us by unforeseen obstacles, but we still have the ability to live our what is in our hearts despite the things that get in our way. So though we all must take life's journey, we still have a say in how we will live it.

The walls are melting around me! I am screaming inside! I lie in a pool of sweat and misery! I want to feel the cool night air. I climb out the window and scale the walls like a fly. I drag myself to the roof and look back over the edge. I wonder if I can fly? Oh to see the day break and to know that sanity hasn't left me!. If I make it until morning, I think I will be ok?

If I could return to my home, the place of my childhood. What would the happy stolen moments be worth? Could I recapture the innocence lost, would I ever change history's course? I am unsure what would be the outcome on a grander scheme of things. I just know that returning to a simpler time, would be a true treasure to me.

Crisp leaves crackle beneath my feet. I walk barefoot on the cool earth and look at the Birds flying under the Umbrella of the sky. I think I know where I am, but I am not truly sure. I think I will ask the next Unicorn I see. I was in the land of reality a few miles back, but I took a wrong turn I think. For now it doesn't matter, I just want to watch the birds and see if one will hit the arch of the sky and fall to the earth. All the while my cares have gone as I walk along with a ****** who seems to have taken a fancy to my wooden leg. Who knew the day could be so interesting, yes I see the boundaries. I see the separation line as at last I have found the border of insanity and I think I will step over just for a bit.

I look beyond the veil of the mortal plain. I look into the darkness where spirits reign. I see the tumultuous churning of emotions wreaking havoc on the world of the living. I step beyond myself and wander between worlds.  I see flashes of lightning but hear no sound. I feel the universe quake and see heavenly bodies shaken. The balances of cosmic harmony have been tipped to far in one direction. I begin to shiver as a cloud of chaos surrounds me. Then in a flash, a force of spiritual energy shoves me backwards into my own place. I awaken shaken to my core. The disharmony is simply with in my own self and I am at the center of a spiritual storm.

A man on crutches walks by a flag on the town square. His left leg is no longer there. He stops to salute the flag before he moves on, a small child looks in wonder at what he has done. Tugging on his mothers skirt he points and she says that he shouldn't stare, the man hears her words and quietly draws near. The woman looks up startled and seems embarrassed by what she has done. The man just smiles and tells the woman I too have a son. He is in school right now learning all kinds of things. He will learn to be polite and what freedom means. Just like your boy will do someday, so don't be embarrassed because you see I only have one leg. I gave it up for your freedoms, a price I was gladly willing to pay. So don't shed any tears and please don't be sad. I salute that old flag because I am dam proud. I was one of the chosen few that had a price to pay. So you and many others can live a free and peaceful life. God Bless Our Veterans.

I give you my love, all that I am. I offer you my heart and all that is has. I knit my soul to yours and let my life be bound to you. I give you my love that will ever be true.

A circle of perfect gold, placed on a tender hand. I give you my love eternal and undying . In the solemnest of moments, I kneel before you and offer you my life. I will sacrifice for you all that I am, to hold you next to me. In good days or bad, I will hold you fast. I will be the anchor to moor you fast as our hearts are joined. Into the eyes of serenity I stare and I am held fast by your gaze, as I submit to your will and I give you my love.

Faint light shines through ice hanging from the trees. Like diamonds it sparkles and twinkles. Streaks of silver show through and glisten in the misty air. Like precious treasure that brings subtle beauty if only for a little while. The world sleeps as fires burn bright inside. The ice must come to cleanse the world of the old and renew the life for spring to come and give rebirth. Thus the ice is a treasure indeed.

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 the stars fall from the heavens and the final curtain is drawn. The skies will part and roll back like a scroll. The veil between worlds will be torn into. All will see the truth that has been hiding in plain sight. To those for whom death holds fear, their dread will have come true, but for those who have accepted life, there will be much to do. In a moment and a twinkling of an eye, the whole universe will change. What to some is the end, will to others be the beginning.

Shy and sheltered, kept in seclusion. Waiting on the moment for the sun to shine on her. Slowly nurtured and guided with the wisdom of loving hands. A special Orchid is pruned and watered until she is ready to blossom. With petals as gentle as fine silk, but with strength of the Willow tree. Able to bend and flex in the worst of storms. A daughter is a beautiful flower, and when that flower blooms, she is a marvelous thing to behold indeed.

When all of my pain is gone and I am finally at rest. I will not remember what I have been through. All that I will see is peace and beauty, for my trials and suffering will have passed. In an hour appointed, I shall take a trip, to a far better country. In lands of green pastures, clear waters and eternal day I will rest. Take no thought for me, for I will feel no more sorry. In the land beyond eternity, where I will cry no more.

Feelings aroused with passion, the heart is drawn towards a new fancy. The honeymoon is grand but is soon over. Then the marriage goes stale, the eye wanders and soon infidelity can occur. Thus is the way of love and politics. At first the idealist draws a crowd of true believers as two new lovers would meet. The followers are enamored with the passion of the new face, just as lovers are enamored with each other. The similarities are astounding, and the results often the same. Some weather the test of time and others fade away and are divorced from one another. If there is a break up, then one gets the lion's share of the wealth, while the other is left destitute. Thus love is like politics in so many similar ways.

Slash the parchment, cut the scroll, open up the words and let them bleed from your pen. Place your feelings into letters that form words, dispense your passion onto paper. Write down what troubles your heart. Cut the lines into the grains of eternity with your steely pen. Cut the paper and let it be wounded for your art. Inflict your pain, sorrow and joy for others to read. Let your life be poetry, words given from your heart.

Lay a blanket of emotions over me, and envelope me with the secrets of your heart and I will open up my soul and let you come in. Share with me the most intimate parts of your life and I will knit my heart to yours. Surround me with your affections and I will immerse you in mine. We shall walk a path of emotional strength and be joined for all time. In the deepest part of the night, beneath the starry skies above, embrace me and hold me tight, cover me with your 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.

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

When we have fallen and can't seem to get back up. Perhaps kneeling is where we need to be. Despite our feelings that we have really messed up, there is still grace for you and me. God does not close his door to those who truly seek him. We are human and many mistakes we will make. We are the ones who deny him and refuse to accept his gifts, of forgiveness and redemption. So when we walk away from God, he weeps for our troubled soul. Though we might be miles away, his grace does not end.

Pierced and nailed to a tree, the most precious blood that there will ever be ran down to earth. Many looked and ask why this must be, but the blood must flow you see. Upon the alter was placed a perfect lamb, without spot or blemish was the son of man. When the sacrifice was made sin knew it had to go. The powers of hell were shaken salvation was given. So though it may seem like an awful fate for salvations sake, let the blood of the lamb flow.

Monolithic trees standing silent as if frozen by time. Stone giants rising into the sky, reaching for something that I cannot see. Petrified remembrances of a time long past. A connection to what once was and may never be again. Animals run among the monuments and birds light upon their frozen limbs. The sun reflects off of their crystalline bark as I walk among them. So much is preserved and so much is forgotten, in the stone forest where petrified trees wait quietly for another day to pass.

To heaven I plead asking for comfort. In misery I call out with lamentation. I see those who persecute me and take away my joy, I call to the watchers of the lord. In the hour of temptation, let heaven hear my pleas. In the night watch when fear comes to over take me, let the sentry be set about me that my peace shall not leave me. Oh lord set your angels to watch over me.

Ice hangs from the trees as worn paths are hidden behind a white sheet of snow. Everything glistens in the faint light that breaks through sliver and white clouds. An Owl can be heard calling in a distant grove of trees as it hides in the dark wooded cavern. The streams are frozen but you can hear them creak and groan. The North wind weakens and begins to subside blowing snow drifts in to blinding curtains of white. Ever so slowly the earth turns around and begins to shift. The hand of the cold miser that counts every snowflake begins to loosen its grip. A South wind comes in and the clouds begin to part. The towers of frozen water falls with Ice that hangs down like the Columns  of a Cathedral begin to drip. Trickles come together and form small streaks of water that cut grooves in the ice. Day by day the cold recedes, until foot prints that were frozen into the ground begin to turn into mush. The forest begins to lose it's sheen of silver and brown limbs spring up as the weighty snow falls off. They reach ever higher for the sun as they embrace it's warmth. As the last vestiges of white evaporate, small buds appear as sap rises. Winter falls away and spring finds it's place again.

Standing on the sideboards of a corral, looking down at death. Two thousand pounds of fury sits just six feet away. With what some call nerves of steel and others call insanity, a cowboy straddles a bull that they say can't be broken. Earning a name like Loco Rios or the Widow Maker, the bull snorts as the cowboy tightens up the leather strap into his glove. Taking a second look at the man holding the gate, the hand is lifted and the dust begins to fly. All of his senses ask why the hell he is here, while his heart races and his sense of adventure, says that his body is just along for the ride.

There is a place where all sorrow goes. Where the tears of the despondent eventually flow. A river devoid of a single living thing. The river of tears that is cried each and every day. There is no joy in these waters, only salty remembrance. Things of loss and utter sadness can be found there. So if you ever immerse yourself in the waters that flow with each persons misery, just remember that you will not feel rejuvenated when you come out, but perhaps you will leave some of your sorrow behind, and the river of tears will take it far from you as it flows away with the tears you have cried.

Reality lies fractured around me, the world has gone into a spiral of madness. No matter I look, the reflection looks back at me through the eyes of insanity. I walk barefoot on the shards of a thousand broken mirrors as I try to find the reflection that is my true self.

The chains that I have forged are ones that you cannot see. I created them through selfishness and neglect. In pursuit of gain instead of love and mercy, now I sit trapped inside of a prison of my own making . My sentence has no commutation and I dare say no parole. I carry the memories of my mistakes etched into the table of my soul. I long to open the prison door and let myself go free, but alas when I drove you away, you took the key and your love from me.

In the news of the day, all that we see is misery. No stories of hope can be found. Let us take each day and do some good for another. Let our children see our kindness and not our distress. Walk in faith with discipline. Give kindness instead of retribution. See justice instead of vengeance. Show that there are other ways to live than hate and intolerance. Instill the lessons of acceptance and compassion. Bring forth children in a right way and they shall use it as a foundation to be a hope for tomorrow.

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

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

Sitting under a moon lit sky, watching the Spanish Moss sway in the wind. Listening to crickets chirp and lighting bugs flash. The smell of honey suckle fills the air as the stars fill the heavens. Dogs can be  heard barking as they run through the woods some distance away. The smell of apple pie comes from the kitchen giving a reminder that supper is almost ready. The air begins to cool and the night settles in as the sound of a rocking chair creaks on an old wooden porch. Perfection is not achieved, but it comes mighty close. This is what can be found on just about any southern night.