The oak tree stands upon firm ground; an ancient
agreement with the earth. Autumn leaves agree to
nourish an infertile land if the contract is ratified. The
monsoon winds have no arrangement and are indifferent.

The snows of Kilimanjaro blanket a primordial volcano
and has an agreement with the rivers. Its melting glaciers agree
to flow freely and nourish a thirsty land if the contract is
confirmed. The sun has no arrangement and is cold and unmoving.

The soul resides freely in each of us. Ours is an immortal covenant.
If we agree to honor our bodies and humankind, life’s pact is
affirmed. Death has no arrangement and is uncaring and heartless.

I wake early on weekends to a ritual of writing and
drinking the life giving elixir. My temple is the abode
of the green mermaid, where she summons the weak
with her siren songs. It’s said that she has no soul.

This is where words are born in my mind and placed in
ambiguous order; meanings known only to my soul until
the rational mind unscrambles the mess. It’s hard to be
profound with the loud world music in the background.

Trouble brews when the temple is filling to capacity. They
want my table. They don’t know I’m trying to weave a
fabric of words that will change their understanding of (place
question mark here). I am lost without my muse.

A change of venue is in order. I’ve lost my purpose and
words. My teeth are stained and my mind is no longer malleable.
I’m invisible to the passion that once inhibited my soul. I’m cast
in an ocean of blackness where the green mermaid reigns.

I am but a wanderer seeking refuge
Finding shelter in the arms of one cherished
But this sanctuary lacks congruency in my heart
Now, I acquiesce to hope and conviction

We mourn the loss of a child called love
With youthful enthusiasm it was encouraged
But if one loves the child more than the other
Love grows divisible and rebellious

The pain and anguish of the vanquished,
Need not to be in vain
All feel the sting of relinquishment
Soon, a fleeting memory

The soul intuits destiny’s detours
Like a mouse in a maze, we seek a prize
Worthy of the pursuit
But are we mindful of the past costs?

A transformation in the wind
Not a gentle breeze that emancipates
A lion tooth's angelic mane of seed
But a monsoon that threatens a souls complacency

The cycle of life and death that exists in all
A passion that ebbs and flows
The gust descends and reveals its riddles
From death to life another phase begins

The resilient fathom and unravel the mystery
The frail are sightless, seeing only the gluttony of their ignorance
Resist the wave of ambiguity, which seek to batter and disfigure
Death is the path to rebirth where being is eternal

A footpath that offers joy and agony
Success and failure
Hope and despair
A trail of wonders and judgments

Rejoice in the pain of lost love
Revel with delight at doom and forebode
Ours is a journey of enlightenment
With plunders worthy of life

Time is not a capricious thing
It moves in one direction
A locomotive with momentum
As tangible as air or the vacuum of space

Don’t dare to control
Or change its route
Its destination is an unknown
But its presence is felt

Childhood will defy its endless course
The old will curse its surface effects
Time is a nemesis that considers not
A harbinger of death and is unabashed

The deep and ominous laughter I must endure
As you seize me with paralysis and terror
I am repulsed by your advances, you succubus    
I am held captive by the feeling of dread

I rejoice in the slightest movement
Escape is possible if I choose
If I awake from this netherworld
I must usher a new truth and job

The cadre of gawking onlookers
Catch a glimpse of the latest casualty
“She was so promising with such stoicism”
Her loss is our gain

Their expectations had no bounds
The opportunities were hollow promises
Their duplicity complete and final
She got her pink slip at 5