Each day I try to be perfect, but each time I fail. Each day I hope to do better, but each time I fall short. In desperation, I read the books and try to find the answers. Looking through the text and seeking to unravel the complicated reason for what is. Then in utter frustration I through up my hands and fall to my knees. With a guttural cry I ask why, can anyone ever do enough. Then in stark silence, love washes over me and I realize that all human effort is in vain. That only by living with God can I achieve what he wants me to accomplish and become what he wants me to be.

Stains on the window are Crimson, the sky is Silver and Blue. Dried grass moves in the wind as half dead Golden Rods fade away. Dry leaves crackle as the wind picks them up and tosses them around. The boards creak as I move barefoot across the floor. The dust settles as I sit down at the table alone. A Raven calls from a tree barren and withered. A dark messenger sent to bear my soul away, though I am not yet ready to depart. My eyes are dark and red, the rings around them tell a tale of little sleep while the red lines show the tears that have fallen like a cold winter rain. I drink dark and half warm bitter coffee, as I languish a little bit longer and brood on the pain that your leaving has caused me.

You see my outer self, look through my veil. You see the inner shadows that I protect. My pseudo self is an illusion that I take on to keep others at bay. I wear it like a piece of armor. What lies beneath is confused and in a state of flux. Yet you see me for what I truly am. The false pretenses are lost on you and a grain of truth is made evident. You know the true meaning of my being. As you see your own self, so do you see me. I am a crystal lens through which you peer. I have lost all of my protections, I am laid bare before you. You look through me to the core of what I really am.

I bow down in the quiet places and in the hidden rooms. I read from the holy word and make supplication unto you. I seek wisdom and understanding as to why evil must have it's day. I beg of you oh God, why must it be this way. Then I remember what you said in your word. Man does not honor you, we forget your holy law. So I come to you in earnest oh God and upon bent knees, I earnestly cry to you, lord hear my pleas.

She smiles sheepishly yet nothing seems amiss. She glows from having been in bliss. She found out how it feels to love in one short hour. She considers herself a woman now that she has lost her flower.

With closed eyes, I twirl around then fall into a pile of dried leaves. I open my eyes to see the sky spinning above me. I listen to the wind whipping by me as the dried leaves into which I have fallen crunch beneath me and are stirred up around me like a brown curtain by the chilly Autumn wind. I laugh uncontrollably as all of my senses are overwhelmed. I sit in a cascade of emotions as I become lost in a moment where I forget all of my worries and simply enjoy myself.

Sitting by the water watching the leaves fall into a stream. Each one begins it's journey on to an unknown place. The wind blows the water that runs still and deep, each wave moves out as a ripple towards the sandy bank where it stops, yet the wind keeps going on. Beneath the surface I stare at fish darting about as I see my own reflection under the Steel Gray sky. Shimmering in my reflection like Silver that you could just reach out and take in your hand. I realize that I am only seeing a ghost of where I exist. The world around me goes silent as in a moment I find understanding. The wind, the water and every living thing is a part of something greater and my life is only a brief reflection of the part of the whole that I must play in the grand scheme of things.

Under the shadow of an old stone bridge, by a cobblestone way, I hold the rarest flower  in a lovers embrace. Surrounded by golden and white blossoms on running Honeysuckle vines, her lips offer an intoxication beyond the flowers that scent the air around us. I lose myself in her essence and embrace the dream that is consuming my waking world. I let her absorb me into herself so that I am part of her being. She holds me tightly and draws me even deeper into her paradise. I surrender all of myself and become but a faint memory, as I stand embracing my love in a singular moment that is frozen in time.

Dark clouds fill the skies and a fierce down pour comes along. I dash into the drops of water hurling from the sky! I cannot see my hand in front of my face, nor do I care to! I let the cold down pour wash over me and drench me to the core. I am not looking for insight nor am I seeking absolution! I simply want to be one with the down pour and get lost in the rain.

Silver and White are found in the froth of the waves. I melt into the water and let myself be washed away. I disappear and break against a rock on some distant shore. The sand absorbs me and pulls me down into it's dark depths. I look at mysteries through the prism of each smoky grain and slowly the ocean calls me back. Swish goes the froth as it finds  me, back into the cold depths I plunge. I feel a thousand living things run through me. As I become the water and the water becomes me.

My soul is held hostage in your embrace. I cannot escape the remembrance of your warmth. Your kindness and gentle ways confound me and make it hard for me to concentrate. All the day I am in a state of dreaming. I cannot complete even the simplest task. I drift back to the night of passion before the day of labors. I am enchanted by the scent of your body. I hold tightly to the memory of you as I walk through the day. I long to return to your side and once again find myself, as I am lost in your love.

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 .

The world is full of things that we just don't understand. Algebra, and taxes, politics and love, are just some of the many things. While some can confound you but might be resolved with a pencil or a pen, love is an eternal question that will be confusing to the end. It is inexplicable how a sound minded person, can become crazy overnight. How one can go from reason and logic to fanciful flight. Emotions take over and give common sense a great big shove. Off all of life's confounding mysteries, the greatest one has to be love.

Try as you might, some people will not change. The Heart Wants What It Wants and will not be dissuaded. Regardless of how wrong it may seem to those from the outside, love can be a hopeless campaign. It may take years to accomplish a single thing. It may be a whirlwind romance or love at first sight. Love may be young and old or it may cross class lines. Sometimes love must be worked for, it may take years to earn. Sometimes it's giving freely and turns out not to be worth the effort. Whatever love turns out to be, it is different for each heart. It can bring two people together or It can completely tear them apart. Sometimes love is just an impossibility, and illusion we fight for but can never really achieve.

what barrier stands between the heart and it's truth? When a person looks through a focused prism, shades of black and white Fall Away. Vibrant colors appear as driven by emotion. The desire of their heart will glow in radiant light. Love is a spectrum of the rainbow, it knows no race gender or Creed, it bypasses hatred an animus to give the heart what it desires. So in a world that is cut in the Hue of black and white, love is the dazzling Spectrum of color that is laid out like a field of wildflowers. It shines in the bright sunlight and wants to be seen its truest form

The leaves change and turn the colors of the rainbow. The moon shines bright and the cool breeze makes lovers embrace a little closer. New families bundle their precious jewels of joy up snugly as they venture out into the waning sun. The nights come ever quicker and the stars seem to shine a little brighter. Hearts seem to grow more melancholy towards family and dear friends. New lovers find the harvest moon enticing as they wander off for time alone.  The world seems to settle a little away from the vibrant waves of summer, things take on a slower pace and a softer hue. Peace can be found in quiet stolen moments as love comes in the fall.

Love is a blanket that kept us warm. Sitting on the front porch during a cold rain storm. Love is a blanket on a lazy summers day. Having a picnic watching each other in a special way. Love is a blanket that you use to tuck me in, when I caught a nasty cold and you fed me soup in our bed. Love is a blanket that held a wrinkled little nose, attached to 10 perfect little fingers and toes. Love is a blanket that keeps us warm through the years, it comforts us and cast away all of our fears. Love is a blanket that when we are done, we can pass on to a daughter and a son. Love is the blanket that will be there when we finally rest. Yes love is a blanket that I like the best.

In a garden we call life, seeds are planted and nurtured to grow. The seeds of relationships and family are sewn. We give each one care and watch it sprout. Like a flower it blossoms and with time and lots of work, it will become beautiful with a fragrance that will fill our lives with love.

A thorny thing a beautiful Rose, like love it is filled with pricking barbs . To get to it's sweet petals, you must first avoid the small irritating  ******. So is love like a Rose, it can pierce and sting.

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.

Hair like hues of red in a setting sun, the smell of Apricots on her skin. Freckles that dot her face and show up when she grins. Laughter that sounds like a babbling brook. A soft gentle spirit that can soothe the greatest cares. Kindness that is beyond compare. Such are the things that make my love a wonder. A pleasant distraction of grace and beauty to diminish the worldly cares and give me safe refuge from the things that haunt me everyday.

Putting up with the sniffles and watching love stories until my mind is numb. Rubbing your tired feet and listening to you complain. Giving support even when I want to give you advice. Fighting, then swallowing my pride to admit that I am wrong. Trying not to forget your birthday and remembering an anniversary. Some of the things that make love difficult you see. Though it gets difficult, I would not change a thing, for I am truly in love you see.

Love has no agenda, it sees no racial lines. When two hearts cross each other all things become invisible. Only the joy of finding another of like passion is known. Crowns are forsaken, families are denied and positions are forgotten all because love knows no lines.

Drenched in sweat, covered in dirt and grass. Breathing in raspy jagged gulps of air. Empty of energy reserves well below human endurance. Focusing on just one more play, gaining just one more yard, making one more catch or sinking one more shot. Pushing the body to exhaustion only to forget the pain when the game is won, or remember the emptiness if the it is lost. True to oneself, and willing to sacrifice all in the pursuit of the sport. Only when a person has a love of the game beyond material gain or victories do you become truly part of the thing you seek to play.

Accusation and rage, a woman shows her scorn towards her lover. Her partner retorts with venomous chides. Both rage at each other over something that may be trivial to those looking in on their passion. Pacing like Leopards squaring off to fight. Each has disdain for the other and yet longs to embrace. In tense moments of anger, their quarrel is forgotten and replaced with a desire that burns from with in each others souls. Finally they lunge at each other, but not for violence sake, but to embrace as lovers. Joining in hot writhing passion that tears away the sheets of the lovers bed and drenches two bodies in sweat. After each takes pleasure from the other and leaves the apex of mortal passion, they settle into bliss and contentment. Having forgotten their lovers quarrel, they sleep in bliss until next they engage in discord, only to end up in passions throws again.

I look at myself in the mirror, it doesn't look that bad. A little base and some blush and it blends in just fine. I know he didn't mean to do it, he just had a bad day. I know he will come around if I just try harder to do things his way. I must pull myself together and try to get it right. This time I will make it perfect, he will be home later tonight. All of the dishes must be clean, the house is obviously a mess. It will get better if I just try harder. He will see I can make him happy. I wake up to a new morning, I feel tired and sore. I thought I had it perfect until the dishes hit the floor. I tried so hard to make him happy, but I messed up again last night. I ache both inside and out this morning, if only I could get it right. I lie here and cry trying to figure out how things went wrong. I sob until I cannot cry anymore. I know this can't go on. If only I could figure out what I have to do to make him happy, then everything would be all right. I just wish he wouldn't beat me, love isn't supposed to hurt isn't that right?

From sententious curves to full lips. From dark hair to ***** blonde. With pail blue eyes or dark brown, be at peace with yourself. From a case of the giggles to a kitten sneeze, know that you are special. Beauty is subjective and you are truly beautiful. In your own way, you hold beauty. You were created and made unique. You are special in so many ways. Be confident with who you are. Always love yourself.

Photos adorn the dresser and a faded dress hangs on a closet door. A pair of well worn sandals collect dust beside the bed. Music plays from an old radio as the images of ghost dance through the living room. The kitchen sits empty and unused. Pots and pans no longer rattle and clang together and there is no laughter anymore. Tears now stain my pillow where the scent of your perfume was before. They say that you get better as time goes by, but I will be loving your memory until the day that I die.

In a grey foggy mist with showers pouring down, I hold your hands and we dance without music. The thundering droplets soak us to the bone, but this is how we met many years ago. We were both caught in the nightmare of a cold winter rain. A storm so fierce that we thought the world was coming an end. Instead of finding death, we found each others arms. Our warmth pushed away the cold as we became entwined in each others embrace. Now so many years have passed since the cold rain day and when ever we steal a chance, we come out and dance in what brought us together, loving each other in the rain.

See the Silver moon rise and watch the waters rise. Feel the cool earth beneath your feed at the ground slightly swells. Jump and prance to the sound of a Reed Flute as nature is celebrated. Bathe in the shimmering light of the lunar ascension and see fair maidens at play. Embrace the lesser light and revel in it's coming. Behold the celebration and the adoration of the heavenly bodies that give rise to celebration and bring a calm peace to the night.

Her hair was long and flowing down her back. With streaks of purple and green, it enticed you into her web. Her skin was golden tan, her lips were cherry red. Her hips swayed when she would walk. There was something sultry about the way she talked. Her dress was cut from here to there, showing just enough to make you aware that she was a woman. Her nails were long sharp and painted black, you could dare to dream how they would feel on your back. With long legs and a piercing, stare she would quietly tempt you to dare. Try to escape her if you must, but everything about her makes you lust.

I turn a blind eye to the homeless woman begging for something to eat. I tell myself someone else will help her. I put the pillow over my head when I hear the couple upstairs arguing and I hear a loud thump as a woman gets knocked down. I tell myself its not my business. I watch the t.v. and see an impoverished child from some place that I have never been. I just change the channel. I get sad because I can't buy the shoes I like because they are not on sale. The whole time the woman trying to sell them to me is barley holding her life together and wants to die. I simply dump on her and keep going on my way. I have denied so much that it has become too easy, lying to myself and saying that it's  someone else's problem , its not mine.

The answer to all of my problems. The thing that makes my pain go away. The genie in the bottle of colored pills, that I use everyday. Just one in the morning and my day becomes fine, just another one before dinner to keep me in line. A last one before I go to sleep to make the bad dreams stay away. Automatic therapy is what I take everyday. No doctors needed to talk at me, just give me what I crave. The genie in the bottle of colored pills is all that I need. With just a few doses a day, I can be normal just like you. Do not ever let me miss one dose or I will go on a trip or two. Under the care of these potions, life is wonderful everyday. If they were to go away, then I would have to face reality. That is something I couldn't abide, the pain would be to great, so I will just find life's solutions in a bottle, just one pill is all it takes.

Turn my skin into an inferno, make me sweat at your touch. Light my passions by taunting me, withhold from me that which I desire so much. Use your imagination and devise ways to make me feel ****** pain. Cause me to writhe beneath you as I long for you to give me release. Make me burn with passions heat until you hear me beg.

Twist my arm and squeeze my breast, claw my back and slap my face! Hold me down and pierce me hard! Twist my ******* and bite me, reduce me to the basest form of pleasure. Use me and abuse me make me like your love. Hurt me in ways I never thought of, give it to me rough! Show me tortured pleasure, do it over and over again! Pay no attention to my whining, let my pleas fall on deaf ears and just make me scream!

Take me in the throws of passion, release my deepest desires. Hold me so tight that I cannot breathe. Find new ways to put me into rapture. Break down all of my inhibitions and show me what passion really means. Deliver me to the plains of unconsciousness, the revive me and take me there again. Force me to submit to you and to surrender to your will. Test my limits for pain and pleasure, deny me both until I am nearly insane with lust, then only release me when you make me scream your name.

Wash away the dirt and grime, leave old problems behind. Open up a new door and walk through it. Make some new friends, its not that hard. Live life on your own terms. Run away from negative people who want to hold you back. Carry on a conversation with yourself and let the mirror do the rest. Close old wounds and take new chances. Find some music and learn a new dance. Immerse yourself is something you didn't know before. Forget about grievances and trying to settle old scores. Give something to someone you just met, when they have a need that they cannot fill themselves. Close the first day of a new path with a laugh and a song. Wipe away the bad things and let the slate be clean for tomorrow.

People see the great achievements and the glory that others bask in. They see the moments of magnificence and perfection. What they fail to see, is the sacrifice and the labor that goes into accomplishing great things. When a dream is envisioned, it is often fraught with obstacles. Giving up many things is often required. Being focused with intent and willful purpose in order to find that singular moment in the sun. Hours, days and weeks may be lost in the struggle to realize the goal, but only when you are willing to push beyond the boundaries that have been placed on you, can you begin making a dream come true.

Seeing someone as they are and accepting their differences. Offering a helping hand without seeking something in return. Being there when a call comes for help. Listening instead of offering advice, then buying a favorite to make a person feel better. Though it is not often easy and can sometimes be confusing, making a friend is often worth the time.

When you see a unpolished stone in a persons life. If you are willing to put in the work and give of your time. You can knock off the dirt and rough edges and make a Jewel shine.

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.

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

Planting seeds of humanity into the hearts of those in need. Feeding the poor and the destitute. Remembering to reverence God who gives all good things. This is how I wish to be remembered. To have shown compassion and helped the stranger in the way. To have been a teacher and a friend. In all things humble and caring. This is the legacy I wish to leave.

Holding tight in each others embrace. Lost in lust in a private place. Heaving chest rise and fall, naked and entangled in night were lost. Found in rapture, in the heat of the night. Deep sleeping beyond the mornings light. Holding each other as if our lives are about to end. Taking pleasure from each other again and again.

If you see someone who has less than you, find out what they need and offer them an opportunity to achieve more for themselves. If you see someone who was born with something that you were not, don't be envious, be happy for them, for all of us have gifts, we must first discover then and make use of them. When someone disagrees with you, do not hate them, simply agree to disagree and try to part as friends. If we try to do our best to help another and to understand our neighbor, then we will go along way towards making things equal.

Wheels and gears turn  beneath a jeweled face. Springs run tight to precision. Clicks and whirring can be heard. As a man looks through a glass into the workings of the watch he is holding in his hand. The craftsman fashions a masterpiece that will outlast the owner. With a steady hand and keen eye perfected over years of toil and love, the artisan crafts a work of art to adorn a chain of gold or to wear on a wrist. In all his work, the tinkerer is making time.

Scratches on the wall, each one a tiny indention of my life. The bars that I look through are not my prison. The thoughts inside my mind are what hold me. Remembering the tears of my children as I was lead away in chains. Hearing the screams of my mother as she disowned me in anger. Feeling the separation from the emotional ties that bound me closely with the ones that used to love me. Knowing that someone else is filling the void that I left in the wake of my incarceration. Each scratch in the wall, is a day off of my life. Each mark in the hard concrete reminds me of the things that I should have done. All I am doing is marking time, in a prison of my own making.

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.

A faded flower sits in between the pages of a worn out bible. The first Coronation that was ever given by a true love. A picture of a new born child in her mothers arms, sits on a writing desk. A pair of bronze shoes sits beside them. Crayon marks line the wall, for each inch of growth and every month of passing life. A pair of satin shoes sit quietly on a shelf next to a prom dress that has been preserved for a first dance. Now in linen and lace, a new bride soon to be wife waits in her bridal chamber for her last walk as a daughter. Such are the memories of a well lived life.

Handing out sandwiches in the poorest part of town. Giving words of comfort over the phone. Helping to find a place for someone who has lost everything. These are the building blocks of hope. When a life is destroyed and torn apart. These things are what will put a foundation back under someones feet. To know kindness still exist and to see unconditional love removes suffering and pain. Despite all appearances, even the smallest thing can light a candle in a dark room When the spark of mercy is ignited, the light will dispel the darkness. This leads to healing, which is the way to begin mending a broken life.