Grey and Silver clouds come down from the mountains and bring fog into the valleys. Rain pours down and creates temporary streams in dry gullies. Puddles form in potholes along the driveway and the roadway. The earth drinks in as much water as it can hold, then spews out what it can't take in. The air is cool and damp as I wrap myself in a wool blanket and look at the trees dripping silvery drops off of their limbs. While others see nothing but darkness and gloom, I see beauty and cleansing. While the air may be cold and things may get damp, water like faith is the essence of life. At times both are invisible, but often manifest themselves in a flood of abundance. So I take joy in the rain, knowing that it will help the earth bring forth fruit. That is why there is no ordinary rainy day.

By the blood of the cross I will live, by the blood of the cross I shall be judged. By the blood of the cross I may find redemption. By the blood of the cross I will not know death. By the blood of the cross I will offer up my life. By the blood of the cross I will repent and seek to do better. In all things I am by the blood. If not by the blood then by what measure shall I have hope beyond this life.

Drinking from a cup of lust, trying to satisfy her fire, she craves passion and intimacy. You can get hypnotized by her eyes or the movement of her body, her form screams take me even in the dark. Be cautious of her ways, she will consume your strength to satisfy her needs. She is only secure when you hold her near and will not let you breathe, for her need to be filled is so great. Such passion burns like a thousand candles, she scorches the soul of her lovers. She is need incarnate, she is a wild creature, she is insatiable.

What can bring me joy, what can make me smile. What will lighten my heart and lift my burdens for a while? It is what I choose. The things that I like. They are the key to my happiness. They are what is right for me.

My wheels turn the wrong direction as cob webs clutter my thinking. Distractions make the pictures seem murky as I try to write the story down. I am not sure which way the words should go as they get mixed up with other things. My mind is full of clutter and I must do some house cleaning if I want to see clearly. The flow of ideas is clogged up somewhere along the pipeline. I have tried to snake it out with meditation, but I get sidetracked by some insignificant idea. So for now I will leer at the paper and try to imagine the ink to flow and the lines to form. Perhaps this will empty out my memory and clear a path for the words trapped in my head.

Wiping my eyes I awake from a long slumber. To thundering voices I arise. For eight long years I have slept in a nightmare, now the sun has risen again. My country was under siege but not for much longer. The tables have been turned and I am now awakened. At last the long winter of discontent has passed and a new tree is growing. Liberty has been restored and hope is springing anew. Liberalism has been routed and conservatism has again taken root. Soon I will be fully awake and basking in the new day. Finally I will be free of the chains of oppression and be able to live without fear. For the nightmare is over and my country has been returned to me.

My stomach is tied in knots, my head is throbbing. I cannot eat or drink anything, I feel as if I will die. They say the first day is the hardest, I am not sure who they are kidding. They say it gets better as each day passes. I have felt like this before when I couldn't afford a fix. Now I feel like this on purpose and it really *****. All I know is that this the first day I have wanted to be clean and sober. I crave the junk so bad that I fear my heart will explode in my chest. I lay here in a cold sweat as the nurses come by to check on me. I am not sure what time of day it is. When they bring my meals, I just get sick and throw up, although there is not much left in my stomach. I have to make it, I really must try. If I ever want to be free, then it is day one and we shall see.

In the darkest hour of the night, shine forth and show your compassion. In the heart of the storm be a beacon by giving help and hope. When the cold winter steals life from the world, show strength and courage as a lamp to guide others to a clear path. In all things stand resolute, joined with others of like mind. Sharing a heart for caring and mercy, giving hope and charity. Though armies rise against you and all seems impossible, a chain of strength linked in kindness and giving cannot be broken. For when one courageous soul falls, another will lift it up and stand with it. Together shining against the darkness and the hate, returning balance and harmony to a world gone mad. You can be a light.

Glimmering in light like golden flakes of sand. Twirling to the music in pretense. Pleasantries are exchanged and true selves are hidden. A charade of what we are is on display. A dance of an artistic nature as all are presented in the finest setting. As fine pieces of china we each know our places. We fine tune our gamesmanship to an art. The craft is the trade we ply. Ever knowing that we cannot reveal our true intentions, at least not until the trap is sprung. In a grand illusion we participate, one piece of a game board. The game master manipulates us into playing our part, in this life's masquerade.

Hills filled with tall white pines, aged and knotted reaching to the open sky. Rivers running from dark high mountains capped with snowy peaks where the feet of man seldom walk. Lakes filled with fish and crystal water untouched by progress. A quiet people living in harmony with nature, taking only what is needed and no more. The noble eagle soaring into a valley to chase the clever hare then dashing back up towards the sun on hidden winds. A scene captured from history of a peoples native land that has long since gone away.

By that which was shed onto rocky ground, By that which came from the innocent. Under a crimson flow of cleansing, my soul finds redemption. Through the blood stained banner that heralds the victory. By the stains on the cross. By the guiltless that paid for the guilty, that my souls might not be lost. Through Christ sacrifice, it is understood. That any who will believe are redeemed by the blood.

Looking into the mirror then at a photo on the night stand, I begin to wonder who I really am. I see myself with my children and wonder where I have gone. I know that I love them, but where do I belong. I once knew who I was and where I longed to be. Then life got complicated and I lost my way. Now I stand here trying to find my path. I think it is time that I make some changes, perhaps just subtle ones. I think I will look around and see what can be done. Perhaps I will take a journey and find out where I want to be. I am not sure what it will take, but I need to find out who I am. I need to restore balance, and get things in hand. Before my life comes to end, these are things I need. I just want to return to really being me.

I want to take a journey, I want to take a trip. I want to discover everything that makes you tick. I want to run my hands over every line and curve. I want to find out how to make you purr. I want to find each place that makes you wiggle and twitch. I want to feel the heat of your flesh pressed against mine. Oh please let me know your mine. I want to feel our arms and legs entwined. I want to hear one heart beat and make you lose your mind. Let me become your lover, come join me on this trip. Let me know your body, from your toes to your finger tips.

When the sun is falling low and the earth is very still, I like to take a stroll and listen to the blessed silence. As flowers turn their petals to catch the last rays of daylight, I can see the true beauty of things as shadows gently fall. It is in this time of coming rest that spirits are gentle and the soul lets itself be seen. Along well worn paths I take a walk in the garden just to regain my peace.

I washed my face and looked into the mirror. There I saw my reflection with an evil grin leering back at me. I don't remember having such a twisted face I thought, nor do I revel in wickedness  with such glee. The image reached through the gateway and attempted to pull me in. I fought for a moment, but then decided to take a chance. As I slipped through the looking glass into the other world, somehow things felt familiar to me. I saw the razor that cuts me and the pills that calm me. I looked at my other self and it just leered back at me. I pondered how I could relate, then I tried to touch the other me and it rippled. As it became distorted, I felt a pain in my own chest. I looked back at the mirror and saw myself once again looking at the distorted reflection as it leered back at me with an evil grin. So now I am twice as confused, did I change places with my inner self, or did my inner self change places with me?

In utter darkness, I stand as a lone candle. Surrounded by endless night, I struggle to shine out. My efforts are eclipsed by so much suffering, that I often wonder if I can be seen at all. Then when I think I cannot make a difference, I see another like me. They are shining through the night of despair, reaching out to those in need. I press harder and shine just  a little bit more, until the light cuts through the darkness and joins with theirs. It is then I see more candles in the darkness, each shining a tiny bit of light. When I realize that we are all joined and are poking holes in the veil of night. I see a tapestry of stars giving hope and guidance, to a world so desperately in need.

There were 3 kings who lived their lives. Each was wealthy and thought he was wise. All 3 of them were life long friends, they stood by each other through thick and thin. Then one day a light appeared, what an amazing thing the said. So from the greatest of the kings to the least of the 3 they followed the light seeing where it would lead. Then amazement they came upon two strangers and a small shivering child that lay in a manger. What a miraculous thing this is they said. They brought their gifts and bowed their heads. So having seen and understood such a wondrous thing, they were that much the wiser, these 3 kings.

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

The path I walk is not easy, the road has twist and turns. Sometimes the pavement will tilt or I will hit one of life's potholes. Yet I am confident that it is the right road, for it has built my charter and given me strength. A straight and even path might be easier, but on an uneven road, I have  found my true self and that is a person with which I can live .

I saw her in the bar, sitting down on one end. Her hair laying all wild over her dark brown skin. Her dress was long and flowing, her shoulder straps lay to one side. Her breast could barley kept inside. I saw her looking at me, as she pursed her lips. I walked down towards her and she gave me a wicked smile. I asked what they called her and she magic, she then asked if I would like to get wild. She took me by he hand, and said let's go dance. We let ourselves go into the music, it felt like I was in a trance. From the dance floor to my front door, it all happened way too fast. Clothes flying body's writhing, I can't remember what was first and what was last. All I know is that when the morning light came in my window, she had gone away. There was just a note on my night stand, that said see you again sometime. I'm now under the spell of a girl named magic, who gave me one hell of a time.

I live in a house filled with window panes. They must be replaced often. Why would I live in a house made of glass some might ask. It is so that I will know when I have thrown a stone or know when one is thrown at me.

The cuts riddle the body, the blood oozes from the wounds. A calm silence fills the air. No gasp for air, just a gentle sleep. Rest has finally found a weary soul, though it might seem like a gruesome end. Few will ever know the torment that a conscience wrestled with day and night. The unimaginable demons that clawed at the psyche of the person now at rest. Like a thousand bee's buzzing in the head, so were the endless voices of discontent. Pills only dulled the buzzing to a humming, that still caused turmoil and violent emotional storms. Now all is quiet as people in White coats with squeaky shoes come into the room. They move the now restful soul to another bed and wheel the mortal remains away. While somewhere in a quiet corner of eternity, the person that was is being reborn. A new creature with only one voice telling them what to do, and not many demons trying to steal a piece of their soul.

Opening wisdom to the light. Laying down words into pages of tomes yet to be read. Brothers and sisters of the scribes trade, poets and story tellers alike. All bound by a union of pen and ink. Essence flows from their pens. Recording ideas for posterity or scribing out words for entertainment of others. All who hold a quill for the purpose of reciting or creating written words or prose are in the same order. A collaboration of written ideas and keepers of knowledge. Each writing on pages of enlightenment for others to read and enjoy.

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

Reach out and pluck an idea from the nothing. Lay down the foundation and build upon it. Stack the blocks that form the steps. Walk up each one headed for higher things. Do not look back or get frustrated when you fall. Get back up and build a hand rail. Then push forward laying each block for each step. Then you will wake up one day and realize that what you have been dreaming of is now a reality.

The light from the Strawberry sun shimmered on the sky creating a Cherry hue as it blended with the Pink atmosphere. The Blue clouds floated on by with Silver linings around their frayed edges. I lay in the Golden grass looking up into the heavens waiting for Lemon-aid to come falling down.

I slit my wrist to feel alive, I am all numb inside. The cuts hurt only for a while but in this moment I actually feel something. I cannot cry anymore because my emotions have died. I am dried up inside and want to feel alive. So I cut my wrist then I cut my legs. Where ever I can get at the pain so I will feel something again. No one understands why I do what I do. I don't want to die, because I am already dead inside. I must find a way to feel alive so I won't be so numb. If only I could feel something other than pain I wouldn't need to cut myself again.

Living is found in many shades. When we are sad it is said that we have the blues. A whole form of music was created to celebrate our sadness. When we are jealous we are said to be Green with envy. The colors of spring and Emeralds is associated with life's jealous side. When we are angry, it is said that we see Red. Which can also be called the color of passion. When a woman becomes a bride, she is dressed in white as a symbol of purity. In a persons vocation they are separated into blue and white, the colors of their collar denotes their work. In all things life is filled with color. If not for color, we would live in a bland and pointless world.

There is a 500lb brick sitting on my brain. I try to write but I can barley strain a phrase. I look at the screen and see a square black hole where the words should be. The block is damming up my ideas and it is killing me. I try to sleep only to have the words leak out in drips and drabs. Then when I get up at 2am to try to write the block is sitting on my keyboard. The letters look like Sand Script and I cannot make them out. Why won't the phrases come out? I take out my pen and try to chisel the block away. My pen is made of a feathered quill and the block is of Granite stone, I can only scratch squiggly lines on the monolithic stone. I have a writers block, it is a terrible pain. I sit here for hours staring at a blank screen again. I get up to go to the bathroom and the block is in my way, I trip over it and hit my head. Suddenly the words begin to seep through the knot I got from banging into the floor. At least the block is cracked now, if I trip over it again, perhaps it will crack a little more?

I shoot up with sharp edges and I am filled with green. I long to be in the sun. I hope to grow up tall and limber, but there is a good chance I will get mowed down. If I get cut back, I will simply push down my roots and attempt to grow again.

I met a stranger and I asked her what she knew. I asked about where she was from and how she lived. It seemed odd that I would want to know, but I told her I wanted to learn, so she sat a while and told me of her life. I met a young lad that was just starting school, I asked him what he knew. He looked at my white beard and asked what I meant? I asked him what have you learned that is new? He sat down and talked a while, he told me of all of the amazing things that he had learned. I walked on my journey and came upon a family from another country and I conversed with them for a while. I asked them to tell me what they knew, I listened and tried to learn their speech. They told me of where they were from and of how they had lived before they came to be where I am. I thanked them and I moved on, each step of the way learning something from each person I met. Though it would seem that this is pointless, it is never too late to learn something new.

I blame others for my failures. I make excuses for my pointless anger. I cannot accept that I must own my mistakes. I am never wrong and no one else can be right. I have much work to do on me, I get that. I am my own worst enemy. Some of my misery is of my own making, I am a victim of myself.

One Christmas eve I knelt silently in prayer. I gave thanks for the things that I had and let my needs be known. Then in silent contemplation I ask God what shall I give you for Christmas. In a long still silence the heavens waited then the sound of a small still voice spoke to me. Love your fellow man, I know it is hard but I know you can if you try. Give to others and seek nothing in return. Listen and seldom speak, learn what other people need. Go out of your way to be kind, even if it is the furthest thing on your mind. Do not take more than you need, even if it seems right to you. Care for the world I gave you and it will do great things for you. I was filled with confusion and sadness because of the conviction that I now had. I then asked God if there was anything else, and he said the most important gift is to first love yourself. He told me that once I knew what I was worth, then I would do the other things and we truly could have peace on earth. With that final word I got up off of my knees and went out to try to live up to the things God told me. To make Gods Christmas gift the best that I could be.

In a field of golden Sun flower with eyes as black as night. A single plant opens its golden petals and an Iris of ghostly white. Among all of the other flowers, it stands alone. It gives a pause to all who see it and a wonder why it is different and alone. None of the other flowers seem to pay it any mind, as they all reach for the sun, but none reflects the light, like the different one. As people come by, they stop to look to see the different Sun Flower, many wonder why can this be. The flower notices the stares as it sits alone different from the others but the same in all other ways. It then ponders the question, why it was made this way. Perhaps it is a random thing, or for greater scheme. It is not just about me, but all of the flowers it would seem. Before the flower bloomed with the white Iris you see, people would pass by the flowers, but not really stop and see. Now the whole field is seen, so perhaps being different is not such a bad thing.

Pierced by silence and a longing to be accepted. Torn apart because of rejection, placed in a place of solitude. Forced to regress backwards into the shadows of itself. A soul scarred by terrible scenes of violent emotions. Holding on to a slim strand of hope. A light that seems as thin as a spider silk. A secret desire and a torment at the same time. The twine makes you want to believe. Yet the dark places say let go. In your own cocoon of protection, you contemplate the options. Deciding instead to sleep for a while, then make a choice. Clinging to the thread one more day, hoping it can sew up and mend the cuts and tears in a wounded soul.

Currents churn oceans and winds blow leaves, but love is more volatile than them both. Fancy can become pain if the wrong word is uttered. Hearts can become as fragile as a glass figurine or as hard as a mill stone, depending on how love goes. No one can measure the ways of love. Knowing when the earth will quake again would be an easier task. Philosophers and wise men can discern the mysteries of the universe, but to know the reason that love changes, is likely beyond mortal understanding.

Brisk are the winds that blow on the seas. Raise now the sails and cast out upon the white waves into the deep blue sea. Look lively and trim the jib, pull back on the wheel and set the rudder true. Remember the last night and the dark hair maiden that stole your heart and a few coins from your purse. Hold fast as we break forth into the unknown. Looking to a star to guide us, off we go for fortune and glory. Farewell to our native home and look clear eyed, fasten the anchor tight. It will be a long journey and many a lonely night before we see dark haired maidens or drink good ale again.

Two bodies entwined in the throws of each other. Arms and legs tangled together. Sweat pouring off of the heat coming from two lovers. One spirit shared as two souls join. Love is exchanged for lust as each takes pleasure from the other. Sheets slide and crumple up as they reach the height of ecstasy! Each immersed in the others passion.

You said you needed to find yourself and I said that was fine. I let you go footloose and fancy free. I found a place to build a house but it is not yet a home, I wait on you patiently. You came back my way and we got to talk for a while, but you told me you had this big dream. So I let you chase your rainbow, while I worked on my life, but it is not complete yet, because you are not here. I found peace of mind and you found the end of your rainbow, though it wasn't what you thought it would be. You come running back towards home and there you finally saw me. I smiled with opened arms, but you just broke down in tears. You said you are sorry for wasting so many years. I told you it was all right that we can start like yesterday never was. I have always been patiently waiting on your love.

I dare not take a drink or use a pill, for the beast will awaken again. I must stay sober and not let the monster out. Try as I might I fight against my mortal self. To let go and give control over is so easy, but would be wrong of me. So I sit here and fidget in cold contemplation as I think about trying to sleep. Even if I can close my eyes the nightmares will find me once again. I will see the horrors that I inflicted on others and watch my actions through surreal eyes. So I watch and I wait, holding on to what bit of sanity I have left, hoping that I will not give in to the darkness with in myself.

On a hill far away on a very dark and sad day, a man was counted among the transgressors. I watched as he gave up his last breath and listened as he said it is done. In that moment I saw innocence killed for nothing that was worthy of death. When his last breath was drawn, I understood that I was guilty of his  blood, and that I had to die with him in order to live again.

It was only for a thrill, just hanging with my friends. Then I needed it a little just to get by. Now here I am alone trying to get high. I never really needed it, I just wanted to fit in. Now I can't live without it and it has cost me nearly everything. The people who got me started, they have all gone away. One is in prison now and two of them are dead. Another has disappeared to where I do not know. If I can't shakes this curse, I may be the next to go. I only know I need it bad, so I struggle day by day. I never thought about getting hooked or ending up this way.

The door is always open, the climate is always warm. We are always happy to have you and what ever you desire, you will find it. What ever you want to do we don't mind it. So relax and indulge your wildest pleasure and let your cares wash away. Take no thought for tomorrow, just enjoy yourself today. There are no rules to follow, not like in that other place. So relax and you will be fine, we don't judge you here.

If you could be turned inside out, what would people truly see. Would they see that you are Red because you are angry at the world? Would you be a bright shade of Yellow because you are full of optimism and life? Would you be a dark shade of Blue or perhaps pitch Black because you are despondent at what you see around you? Think about it the next time you have a quiet moment, what is the true color of you?

Peeling back the layers like a dark Rose and looking into the heart of the blossom. I delve into the inner parts of myself and seek to reveal the true inner person. With the doors opened to my inner self, the whole world can see what is hidden with in me. Thus I have exposed my soul and what it contains for all to truly see me.

Rows of dark earth broken and brought to the suns light. Seed sewn into the earth hoping for a good return. Sweat off of the brow and an aching back. Making a living off of the land, hoping that it will rain. Asking for little help, but always glad when a neighbor lends a hand. Giving caring in like kind to those who have my back. Loving and raising children in open clear spaces. Rising early and getting in bed just as night comes. Such is a farmers life, hard work, family and freedom. All worth growing to me.

The alarm clock rings way too early or way too late depending on your point of view. Toys strewn about the house make an obstacle course and my things are all over the place. Blindly I stumble towards one of many cups of coffee, only to find the *** is bitterly cold. I sit on a cold thankless chair as I wait for the black nectar to brew. I hear screams coming from the bathroom, I am not sure if they are yells of delight or terror. I would take a vacation, but then who would solve the problems I would leave behind. I am sure that there is help here somewhere, I just have to get him awake. I do not live a life, I live in a puzzle box. As life is on most mornings, I am not together.

I stand in the center of a river and the water runs around me. I am in the foundation of a building and it's weight is upon me. I defy the passing of time as I stand resolute in the way of harm. I am the strength to the weak and the support to the forgotten, I am a stone.

When trouble overwhelms me and it seems no hope is to be found. When the waves wash over me and I feel as if I would drown. I focus all of my energies and find my center. Then I regain my balance and I become one with the rain and the waves. I embrace the calm of the chaos, and see the true direction the wind is blowing. Only when I have joined the turmoil, can I find my true direction and become one with the storm.

When I am filled with sadness, I call to the heavens. I ask for a down pour so that I can hide my tears. While some people sunny days, I like the rainy ones, it helps me to see the world more clearly. While sun gives warmth, the rain makes things clean. I love the way it is cold upon my skin. To stand barefoot in a muddy puddle and let it squish between my toes, reminds me of simple joys deep down in my soul. So when you want to see the sun and feel a warm and gentle breeze, please don't get upset if I want a rainy day just for me.