When verses
run dry
do you hide
in despair
When the Muse
is on fire
only ashes
you’ll bear
With silence
embedded
on each
empty page
Your fear
is the foundling
that kindles
— the rage

(Ronald McDonald House: May, 2025)

Trimming fat
off his soul
he searched
for the bone

With every
new slicing
his consciousness
honed

All waste in
the fire
to sizzle
and fry

Excesses
like smoke
rise forgotten
— incised

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

Tall grass above
a sleeping dream
Hiding what
His promise deems

Embedded deep
within the blades
New whispers seed
as life conclaves

The sun to mirror
God’s new day
Each ray He grants
new hope in play

That rises softly
through night’s travail
An open petal
— as Grace prevails

(1st Book Of Prayers: May, 2025)

First
Last
(and)
Always
— say something

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

Do you have
enough scars
to help others
heal

Or wounds
that stay open
the past
uncongealed

Did you suffer
in silence
each moment
of pain

Did all hope
leave you orphaned
alone
and profane

Is your counsel
of value
when the weak
come to call

Can you see
through the trauma
and cushion
— their fall

(1st Book Of Prayers: May, 2025)

Snippets
of the truth
being a
little bit pregnant

In the
promise
of a dream
eternity sleeps

Freeing
tomorrow
with each moment
recaptured

All time
in an instant
as the music
— begins

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)