Living under a bridge, cold and need of a bath. Once a sergeant in an elite command, now invisible to the masses. Sitting on a park bench wrapped in a shawl, feeding pigeons bread crumbs because she has no place to go. Lying in a jail cell, barley the age of 18. Look at grey walls of a future that seems so bleak. All of the forgotten and ignored of everyday life. Those for whom no one cares, as we go about our daily lives. Thrown away people, who want to live and be loved. It makes you wonder how we will be judged by God above?

In herds of painted colors unshod hooves tear across the land scape. Tumble weeds chase them in their wake, as they leave a trail of dust thrown up by them as they go. Through thin brown grasses, they rampage on endless plain that has no end from horizon to horizon. Shaking the earth as they dance along, trotting with fire in their snorts and strength in their mane's. Wild horses thunder on the prairie, as they run into the setting sun as if chasing some place not yet known to man. Fading shadows of the heard conjures up legends of an era gone by as they thunder on the prairie into the steel grey sky.

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.

On padded feet through the thick Fir trees and White Pines. Hot breath meets cold air as white wisp of the Grey wolf's snorts fill the long winter. Softly through snow coverd ground it presses on. With its brothers and sisters they hunt. It's thick coat acting as a shield against the cold and natural camouflage. A lonesome howl comes from a distance as the pack runs forward into the forbidding wilderness and stifling cold. Greeted by a scout, the keen sense of smell tells the pack that their next meal is near. Silently, they patrol the edges of a thicket and lay in wait. As an unsuspecting deer passes too close to the treeline, out come white fangs and tearing jaws. In a momentary fury of fur and crimson, the prey falls to the ground. The restless hunters drag their prey into the safety of the trees, where by a pail moon light, they feast and howl. For the night is short lived, they hurry back to their den, to silently slumber until hunger or restlessness drives the Timber Wolf out to hunt again.

Leaves fall off of the trees and flowers fade from the fields. Grass turns golden brown and it's seeds blow away in the wind. I sit beneath a tall tree and watch the sun sink lower into the west. I hold a pen and paper thinking of what I can say. You have been gone only for a season, but many things have left me with a hole inside. I am not sure how I will get to tomorrow, but I must try. In the end, things are getting more focused because of the pain. It sharpens my wits and makes me realize truths about myself. I can only hope that as a new season comes that I can come to terms with what I am feeling and that the passing of time will begin to mend old wounds.

Up rough hills and over mountains I have climbed. Through dry hot deserts and deep valleys I have walked. My body is worn and I am tired. I see only more road ahead of me. So I will stop for a while and wait on someone to pass by and hopefully they will carry on my journey for me.

The summer clothes are put away and warm sweaters and falling leaves are the order of the day. Bringing family home and making ready for winter is the usual plan. Knowing the names off all of the friends that you will be visiting and sending gifts to, is an essential to daily life. No matter what the time of year, it is always a time for caring and sharing. So celebrate all that you have and enjoy each day as if it were your last. Now is the time and tis the season for caring, family and friends.

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.

I consider all things as I ponder my life, I see  my mistakes and acknowledge them as my own. I accept my sins and rejoice in my triumphs. I am thankful for my blessings and grateful that I could give to others. In all things I am human. I am imperfect though I seek perfection. I a path that I believe will lead to my end goal and I must walk it with all of my faults. I can be the best and worst of my kind, but always I am unique yet joined to all other humans like who suffer the same things in one common bond of humanity that can make us great or tear us apart. This is what it means to be human to me.

I look at the shore line as the sun comes up. I see the vibrant colors of first light. I hear the roar of the ocean as it hits the sand. I hold my board tight as I launch into the waves. The first splash of white foam washes over me, the cold of the early morning makes me feel as if I have been reborn. With each wave I pass, the land gets farther away from me. Into the deep water I go. Out into the rising sun, on the horizon I see the light getting brighter. Then when I can look back and see the land as a mere speck, I turn about and let the sea carry me. My troubles melt away into the salt brine as I hear only the wind and waves around me. As a mother who cradles her child in her arms, the sea holds me fast. As I draw closer to the land the waves rise up to meet me. I feel the rush of life in each one. Then as I rise to the crest and hang 10 for a moment I feel that I can fly. In an instant the feeling has passed and I must turn back and paddle out again. On my journey I go, each time looking to get lost in the rhythm of the waves. Hoping that one day I will simply fade into the foam and become one with the ocean I so dearly love.

When the world makes no sense, we call upon his name. When we are frustrated and feel defeated, we call upon his name. When we lack the answers, we call upon his name. When our enemies seem to be winning, we call upon his name. When the darkness surrounds us, we call upon his name. Oh what a privilege it is to call upon Jesus name.

To drink from his cup is to know perfect love. To drink from his cup, is to be part of his family. To drink from his cup, is to accept that he controls your destiny. To drink from his cup, is to share his suffering in pain. To drink from his cup, is to stand in his word. To drink from his cup, is to be crucified with the lord.

Leaves fall from trees and lie on the cold ground. Poets and Kings are laid in tombs. The Earth brings forth new things and the old things wither away. The Earth Embraces all that came from it. In everything there is a season. No thing has in mortality, even the Earth itself is torn and Reborn. If not for all things having an end, then there would be no new beginnings. It is in this that we hope Beyond ourselves and the Mortal life that we live.

To loose your mind and engage in folly is to know what love truly means. To forget that time exist and see beauty that others will never know is to know what love is. To feel warmth and a willingness to sacrifice to give another happiness no matter what the cost, this is to truly fall in love.

A young man once spoke to an old man and he said why do you sit here idly by? The old man said what would you have me do, for I have lived my life. The young man said whatever it takes to get rid of the rags that you wear, the old man responded I could if I had silver and gold, but then would I be happy? The young man then said one day I shall have these things a crown and riches Untold. So the old man passed into memory and the young man worked very hard he learned the things that were expedient, and Achieve greatness. Then one day as he set upon his throne wearing his Golden Crown, he happened to look out the window and saw an empty piece of ground. There in his memory he remembered what an old man had said and then he hung his crown laden head for his heart was filled with Dread. He had achieved all the things that money could buy but yet he had no peace, so at lasts he understood what the old man meant and wished he could speak to him again.

To know his love is to know his peace. To know his love is to know unconditional acceptance. To know his love is to know endless mercy. To know his love is to know and understanding sacrifice. To know his love is to know eternal patience. To know his love is to accept his will for your life. To know his love is to learn from his words. To know his love is to follow his will. To know Gods love is to know many things. To know his love is to begin to understand how we should live each day.

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

Today's time is spent and the sun has traveled to the west. Lazy breezes blow across the beaches. Sand washes out to sea and gulls caw above. It is a final close to the curtain that draws open again with the suns coming, to a new tomorrow.

The world sits on the edge of a sword, and all things seem bleak. Yet there are wonders that are ignored by the normal grind of the day. Miracles in science are being wrought each day and new frontiers are being realized. War is raging but is fading, for the ones who push for it are realizing that there is no profit in it. New ways of thinking are being shared as barriers are broken down by technology. Language is no longer a problem as one translator can speak to the world. What seems like a dark night will soon burst forth into a glorious morning as new ideas replace old ideologies. As rage and hate are turned into ghost of the past, tomorrow will come and be a brighter day for those willing to embrace it and celebrates its coming.

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

In the still of the night someone cries out in anguish and someone  answer the call. A person is trapped in a burning house and they rush in with no thought at all. Their own safety is of no concern, a life in on the line. The code of honor that drives them, will not let them rest, until those who are in peril are safe. Bullets fly all around and they rush in, No one can know what they feel unless you walk a mile in their shoes. From endless nights keeping watch no matter what the uniform they wear, those who rise to duty's call do so without fear. So when one falls by the wayside, all of us are the poorer for it. To protect and serve is their creed, regardless of the circumstances.

Open the pages and enter through the gateway. Walk into the imagination of another person and see the worlds beyond your own understanding. Find creation and new life in ways you have not thought of before. Get lost in the safety or the danger of the characters that you would like to be. Live out a journey and travel to places not yet discovered. Become more than you are and add to your knowledge of life, all by discovering a new book.

I cut and slash and rage at your picture. I kindle fire to do great harm in anger. My heart breaks in a thousand pieces and the blood runs red from my wrist. The scars that you can see are not as deep as the ones on the wounds that you cannot see. My heart is cut deeper than my wrist or your picture. Was I not good enough for you, was I not pretty enough. Did not love you enough. What made you turn my passionate love for you into a violent hate that wants to consume me at the same time drives me to long for you to even use me again, for being used by you is better than not being with you at all.

If by one act of kindness, you could save a life, would you do another with it. If by one gesture you could turn despair into hope, would you live each day as hopeful as you could? To save one life does not take great courage, it only takes the will to help. When you see a person who is almost at there end, an act of kindness or a show of support can give new found strength and hope. This simple thing can save one life that can touch many more.

To be able to rescue one person, to help one lost soul. To be a light in the dark of night. That would be a treasure untold. So if I am luck, I will get this one thing right. I will be able to save one soul, if I try with all of my might.

Unable to sleep feeling a chill run down my spine. First I am hot then I am cold, am I losing my mind. My focus is taken away from me in the busiest part of the day. I think I am running a fever, why am I feeling this way. I go to see a doctor supposing that I am getting sick. Nothing can be found to explain what has come over me. I rack my brain to come up with an answer, of why I feel so out of sorts, but then it come to me that this only occurs when your are not with me. I look through a medical book then ponder a philosophers words until the inevitable conclusion cannot be escaped, that I am totally in love and that is what makes me this way.

Lesser light shine bright into the open spaces let your silver beams caresses my skin. Lightning bugs that illuminate the dark corners of the tree line like phantom eyes, settle in and shine for me. Watch me dance beneath the silver leaves of the Willow. Let my soul go free into the ethos and wander away from the world. Let me become part of the earth and know the feeling of all things that surround me. Let me see from above and below as I realize just how small I am and how big the universe truly is. Let me then share that knowledge with another so that one by one we can all come to respect all things that live around us.

Oh hear the lonesome pine creak and hear the rivers wail. See the sky shed its tears for the people that did not have to die. Look into the mountains of Georgia and the Carolina, see the empty homes and the forgotten land. Look to a somber people that shed tears as they walk away. By the white mans gun and the pony solider, they are taken from their native home. Sent to a place they do not know, sent under the burning sun. In a empty place with no tall pines or cool rivers. Where the Otter does not play nor does the Owl keep watch at night. Alone along a lonely trail they walk, broken and defeated. Having trusted in lies of the fork tongue, they wail as the earth mourns for them. The children of the Cherokee laid low as they weep on their walk down a trail of tears.

I let the garbage go until I could not stand it. I refused to wash one more pair of socks. I did not wash one dish or glass because something had to stop. I needed to get things in focus. I had to get him to see things my way. So to resolve all of our problems I came up with a training day. I stopped dressing like a lady and acted more like a man. I walked around in sweat pants with holes and kept my hand in my waste band. I let the house and my duties go. I decided why should I care. I made every meal pizza and an ice cold beer. I didn't bother to the change the channel I just preprogrammed the remote control. Now all we see are racing and fishing shows. When I needed to dress up and go out, I just found what ever was on top of pile of close that smelled like an old wet mop. I pulled my hair into a pony tail and slipped on my flip flops. At first he seemed to like it, but then he said it was getting weird. He wasn't sure how he liked me as one of his friends constantly living here. It didn't take long for him to see things my way. Especially when no bills got paid on time, and the took the cable away Suddenly things got better as he came around to my point of view. He now takes out the trash on time and does what I ask him to do. So if you are having problems with a relationship and a man can't see things your way. Just become a reflection of him and give him his own training day.

Held in your arms until the dead of night turns into mornings first light. My soul is at rest , just to feel your warmth and to hear you breathe. When dawn's first light has come, I will lie still in your arms. Your strength embraces me in love that cannot be defined. I will rise to my labors secure in the joy and tranquility that the comfort of your love gives to me.

The rain has stopped falling and there is a chill in the air. The trees have put out green buds for the first time. Clouds are fading as twilight falls and the suns rays are breaking through. The distant light holds a red hue as the evening comes. Walking out into my garden, I smell the freshness that spring rain brings. It reminds me that old things are washed away and new things are beginning to come in. I look at a rose bush where a spider has built it's first web. As a cool breeze washes over me I see the fragile yet elegant web shudder in the wind. Each drop of water shimmers in the fading light like a precious jewel. I wonder at how simple yet strong this web is and how things are becoming new for me as a dark winter of my life becomes a loving spring once again.

I thought I had a handle on my situation, then children came and I ended up in total confusion. While they are copies of me, I now know what my mother meant about me. I could not have been this bad, not in a million years, that is just plain sad. Now I am paying for my sins in spades, I am imprisoned in my own warped reality. What I thought was a life plan was merely a simple suggestion. I have no concept of life or sleep. How long this goes on I am not sure? If anyone knows where the exit is, please tell me now. I am trapped in an endless cycle of insanity. How does one become trapped in their own life anyway?

The floor is littered with broken dreams. The curtains are drawn to keep out the sunlight. A half empty whiskey bottle sits beside the bed. I haven't been out in a week. Life is nothing but a whole lot of clutter. I hear people outside but I just can't seem to join them. My heart is empty of emotions, they have been spilled all over the house. My sheets and pillows are stained with tears, I just wallow in the pity that they bring to my mind. I am not sure where to begin to clean up. When love is lost and your heart is shattered, you are just left trapped in the refuse that a broken relationship leaves behind.

My eyes are fixed to the screen and I cannot look away. Virtual reality has taken over my life and I am part of the machine. I am immersed in the new world that disconnects us from our own. I live in a place where limits are only what my imagination can create. I was lured into the cyber jungle by the promise of infinite possibilities. I can reinvent myself with a touch of a button. I can walk on beams of light and talk with people I have never met, all in an artificial world that I can help create. So now I am lost in the maze and the web has entangled me. The electronic spiders wrap me in their strands of information. I am cocooned in bliss and lost to reality of what is around me. I am trapped in the web, but I don't think I want to leave.

Sailing into the rising sun, I forget that time exist. I reach foreign shore where tales of wonder and woe exist. I see a people that seem to stand still filled with tradition and refinement. Each thing they do is done with the greatest care. To foreign eyes, it may seem insignificant, but to each soul it is a matter of pride. To show care in the smallest detail is to show the way of life that is lived. Duty to ones family and people has been lost in the ways of the west. From flowing silk made by hand to simple meals cooked on a stone fire pit, the simplest things take on a kind of dramatic elegance, as I make my journey through the eastern lands.

The most precious things are not always kept in vaults or in fortresses of princes or kings. Some of the greatest treasures can not be measured or given a value. The first kiss of true love or the first laugh of a new born child. These are things that no treasure can buy. A true friendship that has want of nothing but to just be, a life long love that can withstand the eternity. No gem stone or money can buy the value of these things. They are intangible treasures that are beyond the wealth of the richest man or the wisdom of the mightiest king.

Hiding in a castle dark and tall, I stare into the dark night from behind foreboding walls. Down a sparsely lit path, creatures come alive. They bang on the draw bridge trying to get at the treasure I keep inside. All of the precious gems that glitter silver, red, blue and gold, an abundance of rare delights untold. Then by happenstance I hear something from behind me creep, alas a monster has made it into my keep. My own goblins have come out to haunt me and to demand that I open the door and release my treasure of candy on all hallows eve.

Sent into the furnace of despair, poured out into the flame of proving. Placed under a burden that seems impossible to bear. Wrought by the hammer of tribulation, and tested by faith alone. Made pure as silver or fine gold, a vessel worthy of the masters hand. Polished until you are radiant and ready to be filled with the holy spirit. Only those tried by fire will be worthy of service to the lord.

Speaking with dissent and objection, turmoil erupts among the masses. The tides of public opinion are swayed by pundits and spin doctors that twist the facts to suit a narrative. Until the people are worked up into a froth, the hidden agendas are not satisfied. Only when the power brokers get what they want by deception and misdirection will they be content, but only for a little while, at least until they trouble the waters of society again.

True friends are not made in one day, weaving a relationship takes years. True friends become a part of each others lives. They are willing to sacrifice and help at a moments notice.  They do not judge our faults but accepts us for who we are. They are all ways willing to just listen and not offer their advice. When we are successful, they rejoice with us and when we fail they will lift us up. In life to have a true friend is to hold a priceless treasure, for true friendship is a rare gift indeed.

Lust of the flesh and coveting the pleasures of life. Taking what you can in a selfish way, over indulging without remorse. The vices named in the seven deadly sins are lauded as fatal, in truth there is a greater sin still, the one of omission will often lead to hell. Refusing to show mercy when ever you can. Helping out a stranger that is in need of a hand. So the next time you worry about mortal vice, consider what you didn't do that can affect your afterlife.

Stomp, stomp, stomp goes the elephant as it rampages through the countryside. Trumpet goes it's cry as it runs over it adversaries. It's Ivory tusk glisten as it lunges towards the top of the hill from which it will survey the land. Leaving a path of destruction in it's wake, it thunders to supremacy over the width and breadth of it's habitat. Looking at all who are under it's shadow, it vows to never forget.

They found a child named Amanda Gorman, they tout her as their new darling. They say she is the new it girl, they say she will change the world. The truth is that it is all a lie, repackaged for you to buy. She will speak about social justice and how it should apply to the rest of us. We will hear her talk about inclusion but in truth it is all a delusion. For they only have their point of view and there is no room for me and you. They are not open to any discussion. They only want to take and never give, that is the only way they know how to live. If the son of God could not save the world, then how do they expect to get deliverance from this girl?

We walk around our cities, on our beaches and in our towns. We use all manner of devices to remove ourselves from where we are. We listen to music, or hear mindless chatter of division and dissent. Our hands tap away at plastic screens and we miss life as it goes by us, unless the moment can bring us instant fame. We are immersed in not caring so much that our world has become a sad and lonely place. As people we no long talk, we only text and tweet. We sit in lonely cafe's in electronic silence cut off from reality. If we would simply take a moment and listen to a baby cry or look at the moving clouds and see the color of the sky. How much richer our lives might be. What might we regain. If we would only stop using technology to tune our humanity and to mask our loneliness and pain.

I turn on the news and all I see is confusion and discontent. People are enraged over the smallest things. Countries go to war for reasons that make no sense. They fight over money, or beliefs when there are plenty of both to go around. Life is sold for a bullet and love is thrown away. The fields of the world are littered with the poison of hate and the skies are black with death. Who is right and who is wrong only history can say. Instead of killing children, there should be a different way. Offer up your ideas and if someone likes what you have to say, then without the threat of violence, they can choose to live that way. Without fear of being tortured or having their life taken away. Let us simply agree to disagree and let it stay that way. Share what you have with another and stop keeping everything for yourself. Put down hate and violence and take love down from off of the shelf. When this becomes reality, think what kind of world we can create. A new and vibrant place, free from turmoil and hate.

When a dream has been realized and a journey comes to an end, there are always things that must be done. Finding closure before beginning a new journey is always hard, but in the end it is worth the effort. No one can continue on a singular path forever, even if it is ended by death, there must be change. To find the point at which you can close a chapter in the book of your life and turn to a new blank page where you can begin to write another story is both rewarding and regretful. You will have a longing for the journey taken but will be filled with excitement with the prospects of finding new adventures and discoveries, on the new path you will take.

Twas a southern Christmas and from the front porch to the outhouse, everyone was stirring, even a field mouse. Socks were hung over the fire place with care, hoping they would soon be dry there. Grand maw was in the kitchen holding juniors nose, so he would take some caster oil I suppose. Mom was running around with curlers in her hair, if old Saint Nick saw her he would get quiet a scare. Dad and his brother in law were out of the house, hunting for a trophy buck to brag about. While grand paw was out in the barn, turning the yearly corn harvest into moon shine. A little home made spirit to give all some good cheer. So when you think Christmas is strange at your house, just remember how we celebrate Christmas down south.

Caught in the fading remains of the day, wrapped in your arms my cares fade away. In the cool of the open air we watch the sun fade from sight. I hold you closely in the days fading light. My worries are lost by the love I see in your eyes, as the last beams of daylight falls behind golden clouds. I twirl you around in the last rays of light, watching the shimmer of your hair as we become one with the night. I hold you as we kiss, wanting to savor our romance, as I get to hold you once again in our twilight dance.

In fading twilight I see the stars begin to appear. The last rays of the sun fade into the softness of night. The veil between twilight and nightfall is draped like a curtain over the existence of all things. In this short span of time of closure and awakening, is what solitary moments of time seem to stop. When small birds begin to flutter and settle in for the long night, and an old Oak creaks in the wind as it starts to blow. Sounds and sights fill the mind as time slows to standstill. The senses capture the rhythm of nature as life seems to reset itself. All things realign and become melded into a symphony of life that revolves over and over until slowly the light of day has faded and night has taken hold. Then time begins to wind slowly forward leaving the bridge of two worlds behind, giving one part of life a chance to renew while another expends energy saved up from a long slumber in dark places until the bridge is crossed again from night to dawn in the moment of twilight between two worlds that seldom ever meet.

The stars are out, the stars out oh come you spirits and rise. The joy of evening is upon us, the cruel sun has met it's demise. In fading light, the evening comes, the pin holes in the curtain of night give gentle repose. The silver moon can now rise and coolly shine on our dance. Hearts leap and shades skim across the water. Silent lakes and deep quiet rivers are their play grounds. Lapping at the water as they skirt quickly across scarcely leaving a trace that they were there, only a brief glimpse of a reflection to remember them by. The flowers have wilted into their shells as crickets serenade and night owls keep watch. Fire flies dance and children laugh in the days fading light. All is alive thought a dark curtain has fallen. Life does not stop at the suns going down. Only the cool of a faint shade of darkness rest on the land that part of the world can sleep while the rest in twilight can play.