One moment I am all the rage and the next I fly into one. In one moment I will be courageous then I want you to tell me what to do. Depending on the day or the meds I am not sure who I will be. Sometimes I think I can fly and others I want to live in the basement. All of these people living in my head often confuse me. I can't get a moments peace except when I am asleep, then I am not sure who takes over. I can be very responsible to the point of obsessing, at least that's what my shrink and my lover say, my mom and my room will tell a different tale. So when I wake up and we meet, don't be offended if the next time I don't recognize you and I am a different side of me.

Lives are sacrificed but it is never enough. Offers of concession are made but it is never enough. Hate festers and runs rampant, while bullets fly as words fail and it is never enough. A million people suffer in want and it is never enough. A world goes mad fighting for things that mean nothing and it is never enough. Masses of people starve and do without while a select few increase and gain and its never enough. How much must one person have before they are satisfied. How few people must hold how much before they have enough. Despite what all those who have tell those that have not, it is never enough.

I can't believe that it really happened. I can't believe you didn't close the door behind you. I am still in shock and disbelief! After all of the words said between us, this is how it ends. I am sitting here in the middle of the floor, my tears flowing as I stare at the open door. The door that you went through and took my heart with you when you said we were done.

Sounds of static rattle inside my head. I feel out of control until I tune in. I hear the whispers from the dark corners of my mind. I am directed by the things they say to me. Some days I do just fine, while others people would call it insanity. I test the limits of reality to find where the line truly is. The cutting is not my idea, one of the whispers told me it would be fine. They took me to see a doctor but he couldn't help me. They gave me pills, but they just wreck what I have. As long as I am on the right frequency, I can function in their world you see, but sometimes I just have to live in my own reality. I must do what the voices tell me to.

From the first cry of birth until the last sigh at death, we are in constant state of change. As we grow and learn, we evolve. Our situations change and our experiences mold us. We are forced to move forward in the stream of time. Regardless of what we think or feel, we are compelled to take part in this rhythm of evolution that all things must succumb to with the passage of time.

Fit into the dress, so they won't like you less, keep your size near zero, that is how it goes. Each day is a chore not knowing if you can do it anymore. Eat, then purge to keep yourself beautiful. Repeat, then feel miserable about yourself. You enjoy the attention, but in private you cannot stand the pain. Wanting to be beautiful shouldn't come at such a high price. So once again you go through the motions, eat, purge then repeat to keep the image of what you think others want to see in you.

When you are hurting, I will shed my tears. When you find joy, I will cry in happiness. When you are unsure, I will anguish with you. When you lose your way, I will cry out in tears to heaven. When you come home, I will welcome you with tears of joy. No matter how I find you, I will weep for you.

Tis the season for joy and reflection, as summer fades into fall. Warm days will be replaced by long shadows and shorter days. Leaves will turn and become the hues of the rainbow. Firewood will be stacked and place for pets to lay lazily and warm themselves. Hay fields will be cut one last time and the bails will be stored tightly in barns in preparation for hay rides and a cold winter. Some will be a little older and some will come to see new wonder as the young come of age and truly experience the seasons change for the first time. In the midst of turmoil and change, let us not forget that it tis the season and not ourselves that should be different. Let us embrace things with the same kindness and love for others that we show in the glad days of summer, even though the season has changed.

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 will do this; you can depend on me for that. We use promises as easily as we drink water. Gone are the days when the mere word was a bond, now it is a casual thing. A firm handshake has been replaced with contracts and lawyers. The gentleman's agreement has gone the way of many ancient tomes and animals. It can now only be seen in nostalgic movies and museums.  What would it take to return to such a way of living, to once again keep the promises we make?

Many doors lay before me, some are closed and some are opened. Some will be for the future and some are for the here and now. I hold some of the keys while others have control of the locks. Some doors can lead to the past and some can take you to no where. Knowing which door to take is often tricky. Sometimes if you go through a door, it will close behind you and if you wait too long to go through a door, it will close and you cannot reopen it. Life is full of choices, thus we must be careful as to which doors we take.

When morning glories blossom in the first few of the day. When pale silver clouds give way to beams of sunlight. When I feel a soft gentle breeze is blowing in through linen curtains. When I hear children stirring and Echoes of inpatient laughter. When the birds sing a new after a long Starry Night. I will rise and feel refreshed in my soul, for heaven has brought me through into a new day. I will kneel my self in reverence and give thanks for the blessings I have. I will be filled with New Hope for the glories of the beauty that I have seen. I will know true peace and contentment, when the morning touches me.

Sitting up until the waking hours of the morning. Listening to the needs of a friend. Comforting a sick child who can't understand why it hurts. This is the essence of caring. This is the essence of love.

You feel hot and you feel cold, then you get sick at your stomach. You have trouble breathing and you cannot sleep. You take your temperature and do not want to eat. You feel euphoric, then you get depress, your not sure what it is quite yet. It could be that your coming down with something, perhaps it is the flu, or maybe you are just in love.

I will reshape tomorrow by planting seeds today. I will offer help and give hope. I will show strength and teach to pass on knowledge. I will show how to build. I will impart lessons of mercy and not of hate. I will be an example of wisdom and not ignorance. My actions will be a light, not a dark place. I will show how to defeat anger and hate with kindness and hope. I will instill these deeds and ideals into as many as are willing to accept my help. In each person who takes these things to heart, there will rise a brighter future of prosperity and tolerance, instead of one of want and suffering.

I am held inside of a situation I did not ask to be born into. My circumstances are not of my making. I tear at the bars that confine me. The walls of my cell are not made of iron and stone, they are barriers that were place on me by society. Long before I drew my first breath I was imprisoned. Long before I knew my own name I was set in a place. Now I struggle against the grey walls of societies standards as I reach for the light that is just above me. So much is against me, that I feel like I am smothered and cannot breathe. I feel like I am constantly caged and all I want to do is break out and be free.

When shadows fall over the land and hope seems to be failing. Come forth and shine and become bright as day. When need arises and it seems impossible to overcome, lend a helping hand and give what you are able. When someone is lonely, and feels left out, take time to talk to them. When it seems that there is too much that needs to be done, try that much harder. When the burdens push you to your knees pray just a little more. When it seems that good will suffer a defeat at the hand of the wicked, do one more good deed. Reach inside and pull out just a little more, be a light even a small one. For a single small candle can light a great dark room, be a light.

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

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

The streets were filled with busy people. The wars raged in distant places. The selfishness had grown in abundance and self gratification replaced love and mercy. Technology had become the icon of hope and faith was set aside. Some who still believed were dismissed to the fringes of society. The world was aloof to the signs and wonders of the age. Then in one single hour, it finally came. In some places it was midnight and in others it was midday. The resounding thunder of the trumpet made reality give way. The heavens opened up and the skies were all filled with a blinding light. The earth shook and the oceans vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Appearing in the firmament on his great white throne, with bands of his angles, he came to call his faithful home. Fear gripped the world and everyone stood still. Hearts failed for mortal fear, oh God this can't be real. With a voice of many waters, he cried through out creation it is done. The one who had been crucified had finally returned. There was no more time to make it right, the end was at hand. Many were caught off guard and didn't seem to understand. The promise was finally kept, made from when he rose from the grave. The faithful rejoiced and the sinner knelt in shame. In one single moment all of the work was done. The judgement was here and then over, at the returning of Gods son.

First you love me then you don't! You want me to come back but then I won't come to you. You cry Crocodile tears and my heart opens up, then you push a dagger through it. Love is not supposed to be easy, but I don't think it is supposed to be like this. I am not sure what I am supposed to do with you. Are relationship is at best complicated.

When the world is without hope, God sends the humblest to do the greatest things. When someone needs a shoulder to cry on, God wipes away the tears. When there is want, God sends someone to fill the need. When rain falls and we want sun, God shows us that we can't have flowers without water. When someone is lost, God sends us a guide to help us find our way. When we must choose good from evil, God gives us guidance, but he lets us choose. God does many things, just not in the way we think. Not all miracles are seen and not all problems are solved by angels. God works his will in ways that are ordinary and extraordinary.

Sorrow and wanting are my only friends. Each day is a struggle just to get going. I want to forget, but I can't. I must live with the things I have done. I run the problems through my mind a thousand times but it still makes me sick. How I caused such pain, I cannot begin to imagine. I thought it was ok, I didn't think I would go that far, but now I must deal with the train wreck I have made of my life. Penance is far from me, and I am not sure how forgiveness works. I only know that I hurt and that my sorrow will not end. So I struggle to make it through the day. Each day that passes does not distance me from the tragedy. I ask the question a hundred times, does anyone know how do I forgive myself?

From the mountains of Afghanistan to a over pass at HWY 21 how did I fall so far. I used to be with my comrades on patrol, now I just shiver from the cold. The cars thundering overhead remind me of the sound of the bombs. I try to forget them with something cheap and strong. Lying on the cold concrete I wonder if I can make it another day. The promises that were made to me, have been broken and there is no help on the way. I gave all for my country and now the politicians have nothing to give to me. I cry in silence homeless and alone.

Summer has faded, and the changes of fall have passed. Trees are barren except for the vigilant Evergreen. The North wind blows with a fierceness and rustles the leaves at my feet, as I walk along a empty path down by a dark and quiet stream. The water churns along and takes with it bits of wood and fallen leaves. Soon parts of it will be frozen with ice that will glisten like rough diamonds in the winter sun. Shorts have been put away and coats have come out, I relish the warmth of wool and down feathers. At night I sit by a fire and listen to the children read, as sleep falls over their eyes making them long for a warm bed and peaceful dreams. Though many will stay deep inside and hibernate until the spring thaw has come, I will walk out into the white blanket that will soon cover the landscape with the flakes of the first snow. I long for this time, for it settles my soul. All things seem to make sense and the world takes a long rest and breathes a deep sigh of relief, when winter finally comes.

I see a homeless man pushing a shopping cart. He talks to himself as he goes on. His clothes are torn and ragged, he looks straight ahead as I go by. I walk into a restaurant to have a bite to eat, I look out the window and gaze down the street. I see a woman with a small child by the hand, I almost cry as I see her digging through a garbage can. I listen to the radio on my way to where I live, I hear all of the complaining and people saying how bad it really is. I get close to my house and I pass under a bridge, I see a person laying in a cardboard box because he has no place to live. I think of all of the situations I see each and everyday. I bow my head and ask God why it must be this way. Then I remember that we all have choices to make. We can sit by and do nothing or do what it takes. A few dollars that we can spare or a kind word of encouragement you see. I then thank God for what I have, because I realize that could be me.

On a cruel tree blood and water did flow. From a broken body the sinful world was made whole. In anguish he cried as the spear went in deep. Then rivers of salvation from his side did seep. He gasp for one final breath and said father it is done. Then the sky grew dark and the earth trembled at the setting of the son. A Roman solider looked on and said truly a righteous man has been slain. Yet salvation was born when they pierced his side that day.

From the mountains of the old land, out of pools of water left over from when the islands rose. The mist rises in the morning or the evening depending on how the winds chill the land. Echo's of people past ring off of the mountainsides, as the sound of bag pipes lament the lost and dearly departed. Down the narrow slopes covered in sparse patches of Emerald Green, the mist finds it's way into the valleys and covers cottages. Drops of water come off of thatch roofs like the tears of a weeping young widow longing for her fallen love. Such is the way of the highland mist, that falls like the breath of creation from when no time was.

Grown ups fight over what children do not understand. Soccer ***** cannot be played with because land mines are strewn across their fields. Those who are older think they know what is best. They yell and scream at each other then send the young to die for nothing. When the dust settles and the smoke clears and the land is torn apart, the motherless and fatherless are left in abundance. They roam the streets and play in garbage to pass the time of day. They huddle together to keep warm and safe. The older ones try to help the younger ones with little in the way of knowing how. They can only emulate what they have seen and that seem wrong somehow. So to break the cycle of depravity, we must all yell stop. The masses must simply sit down and say enough. When the grownups become idle and bring governments to their knees, only then will we begin to build more soccer fields and farms. Then perhaps there will be families instead of broken children left over from fighting that didn't solve anything.

Screams of hatred spill out over the airwaves. Through the computer lines they are sent. God has commanded me is the call to persecute a neighbor. Submit to what I believe God is or die. Horrific acts are committed and millions are robbed and displaced. In the name of religious ideologies, these things are done. Who is this God of which people speak? Why does he not show himself? One group says he spoke to them, and another say he told them what to do. Let actions be the bench mark of whether or not a God is just, let us see for ourselves. If what you say is true, then teach it openly, and you will not need a gun or a sword. Yet fire and destruction still are brought in the name of God, by people who's perception has become twisted to the point of lunacy. If God is in truth a judgmental God, then can he not speak for himself?

We are going through growing pains, the world around us is changing. We are going in many directions . The old way of doing things is fading and new ideas are emerging. The problem is that it is happening all at once. Chaos seems to be the order of the day, but there is nothing new under the sun. The mountains and oceans have seen empires rise and fall, yet we worry about a few seconds that go by so quickly that we do not see them. In the end, something new will be born. What it will look like is hard to say. The only thing of which we can be sure, is that in some way we will survive. As with all changes, we will simply have to wait and see what will happen to us.

In a world that is at a tipping point, what can one person do? Wars rage and destruction seems to live everywhere. Kindness seems to have been replaced with selfish lust and greed. Yet one seed can bring forth a harvest many fold. Though a mountain may seem daunting, one person can yet climb it. Perhaps the hope for tomorrow lies not in great things that need to be done. Perhaps with each person who still cares, the seed of hope is alive. If each person plants that seed in the garden of humanity, then today's frustrations will be replaced with tomorrows joys and the legacy of humanity will become one of peace and caring that will have grown through the birthing pains of hate and destruction, showing us a shining path to tomorrow.

What is in the eye of the beholder, is it true beauty. What is acceptably pleasing to the senses? Who can define what is pleasant to look at or to be around. Does one sense define beauty over the other. If something is pleasing to see but contains filth, then is it truly beautiful? How can true beauty be defined by the mortal when each of us views a thing differently. So can anyone of truly say what beauty is?

A Rose blooms in it's own season. It is covered in thorns but is delicate and filled with beauty. For a moment it lives then fades with the wind. Withered into nothingness. As the Rose so is a persons life. It is delicate and on a thread. It is full of thorns but holds beauty and in it's own season it will blossom. Then in a moment fade away into nothingness.

Many great people have come and brought light into the world. Many people have been great souls and have taught us much, but only one left then returned to speak again. A man from Nazareth who worked with his hands, spoke words of beauty and forgiveness. His truth rang out to the masses who then betrayed him. Killed for the truth, he was buried, but then crossed the divide of death. He came back and was seen and spoke another truth. He rose to show us that death is not an end, but that there is more life than what we now see.

I shall become a rock, quarried out of the earth. I shall be hard and weather worn. I shall be a solid foundation upon which you can build. I shall be steady in the storm. Though the wind blows upon me and the cold and heat test me, I shall be the corner stone. On my sacrifices and trials others can build. Upon my accomplishments they can rise above and beyond. I shall be the pavement stone upon which another can walk. I will be the rock on which they can climb higher. To all who seek to surpass what I have done and create a better world, I shall be a foundation stone.

I look at the colors in the window of a small chapel. I see the image of a man kneeling by a rock. I look as the sunlight drifts through and highlights the dust that swirls in the air. I sit here silently beneath the colorful shadow looking for answers. I see that my life is like the window, full of different shades and hues. Some are darker than others and they do not always fit precisely together. Just as the image of the man kneeling by the rock is not a precise one. So I look at the image and I ask how he does it, sitting there day in and day out. As if the glass could speak to me, I just sit with longing wishing I were the stained glass window. A transparent fixture through which people could see dimly not feeling or caring what others think, just an image for people to admire and something to collect dust and not feel a thing.

Ding I heard the chime. I went to my computer and saw the first line. Subject, we are done. How cruel is that, no it is a lot of fun. The break up was fast and clean, cleaner than an elective surgery. It simply said I can't do this anymore, it is not you it is me. A sad face beside the message, so I hacked into her computer to see what was really going on. I found all of her messages and all she said about me. I found some rather nasty videos that she would never let me see, but she was talking to some guy from Fresno and he got them in her video chat. I decided why the hell not and so that was that. I put all of her business online for all the world to see. On face book, twitter and Instagram were just a few places you see. Then I moved on to YouTube and got a million views. What do you know she is a **** star and doesn't even know it yet. So anonymous post to anonymous upload, I cover my trail and to think that all her trouble began when it came to me in an email.

Pull together the lump of clay, mold it, shape it, pull it up. Let it achieve the form it was meant to have. Spin away the excess and let the shape come to life. Stop the wheel and admire what has emerged from the random lump of earth. Rub it gently and smooth out the lines. Put it in the fire and bake it until it is ready. Take out the rough work and let it cool. Take a brush, a steady hand and a keen eye, add the finer details of what you can envision on the earthen canvas. Set it aside and let it dry, put a glaze on it then try it by fire one more time. Take it from the heat and let it sit, watch it slowly cool. Then when it is finally realized, a dream from a piece of raw earth. Put flowers in it and enjoy the vase you helped out of a lump of clay.

I will engage the enemy. I will stay the course. I will offer compassion and mercy with great resolve. I will defend the helpless, the widow and the orphaned. I will be their shield, I will be their voice. I will speak out against oppression, I will do what is right. I will seek out justice, I will stand and fight.

Where shall I begin to tell the story. Where shall I begin to speak of glory. Where shall I tell the tale of war and the truth of what it holds. Where shall I speak of life's ambitions and of the true value of family. Where shall I begin to tell what is important and what is folly. In all things there is purpose, it is for us to determine it for good or ill. Too much of anything is not good, but too little can be just as bad. The stories of life and loss are vast and to tell of them who has the time. Where shall I begin to speak of these things. Is there really enough time? So where shall I begin?

I have walked a path and have built a life. Now I shall continue on beyond myself. I choose to give to another the benefit of that which I had to work for. I shall offer a path to enlightenment and higher learning that one less fortunate than I should go beyond me. Though some seek a legacy of accomplishment and adoration, I choose another path. I shall leave behind another person better off than I am, that they may carry on working to improve the world that they shall inherit. Through opportunity and wisdom, they shall realize dreams that I could never dared to have and through my contribution and sacrifices before them, this person shall be my legacy to the world I leave behind.

In wet sand I sank my toes. I closed my eyes and listened to the waves breaking on the rocks. I felt the cool ocean breeze wash over me and I imagined your arms embrace. I became fully still and lost in the moment. At one point I thought I could hear your voice. Then as all things came together I felt your peace fill me and I fell to my knees in reverence as I was by the sea of Galilee.

A prince came in peace and they reviled him. A king came in humility and they rejected him. A wise man spoke and they mocked him. The son of God offered redemption and they crucified him. If they will do this to him, then what will the world do to me?

Act out your violent intentions and take the life of another. Letting another live and let live, why cannot this be a mantra? Profiting off of the misery of others to get rich because this is the picture that you have been painted by the profiteers who sell souls for a few gold coins. Perhaps environment is the cause, or perhaps there is something deeper? Could the need to control and dominate be inherent to our nature, and if this is the case, what can we really do to separate ourselves from what we must be?

I know all of the verses and I can tell you what it is about. I can tell you who Jesus is, of that there is no doubt. I can comfort you and pray for you, as much as you like. I can be there for you at midday or at midnight. What I cannot do is take away your sin, there is only one can do that, he is my dearest friend. So if you feel a tugging at heart, don't let it go by. Open up the door and let my friend inside. Despite all of the things I can do, the one thing I can't is believe for you!

Now reach the deep and see the dark blue depths. Wrestle with the spirits of the dear departed. In the locker of Davy Jones now lie my bones. Sand for my blanket and a stone for my pillow. The tide turned against my ship and into the drink I went, now lost at sea forever more. My widowed bride lost me to my mistress, when my mistress became angered that I had wed. So now with a starfish to keep me company, I hear her mournful tears as she adds salt to the sea, crying for her loss as my mistress howls in the winds that come from the soulless deep. Another lost sailor am I .

Adorned in jewels and silk, walking to stand by my side. Silent but strong in your beauty, I take you by the hand. I endow you with all of my riches and give you all of my strength. I pledge to you my undying love, she who will be the mother of my children, she who will be my refuge. In silent strength she will support me, in gentle wisdom she will advise me. In all things she will love me. The one who will make me her own and give me hope and a home. My beloved, my queen.

Fine Strokes go on a blank page. The narrow brush Lay's in bits of color. The delicate hand responds to the artist eye. The Canvas absorbs the colors, as one by one they are removed from the pallet. With each stroke and fine line you can hear the whisper out of the brush as it laughs. Across the canvas it glides, bringing out fine points and inserting curvatures and lines. The canvas burst with laughter as a portrait comes to life. What was a blank page, is now a wash with vibrant color. The image speaks of laughter and Mirth as it leaps off the canvas with the final brush Strokes The Artist makes laughter and joy for all the world to see.

Immersed in the smells of a market place. Taking in all of the sights and sounds. Walking with senses overwhelmed by colors, textures and flavors. Some people eat to live, but few live to eat. The quality of the food is often of greater importance than the quantity. Taking into account the essence of what you are making instead of the portion size presents value to life. In the market, the mind wanders putting combinations of food together. All things are robust and imagined. How will a small amount of fresh Spinach sprinkled on pasta change the flavor with a topping of each different type of cheese. What will Pepper do to this and how will Tomatoes affect that? These are questions that must be asked when learning to the joy of food, for pleasure is the essence of a healthy life. Thus ,learning to live to eat instead of eating to live is very important to a balanced existence.