Lost,
  in what is still to be forgotten,
  —reawakening again

(Crazy Horse/On The Bike: 7:40 p.m. Yellowstone, June 17th, 1991)

“Messages,
   trapped in the wind

Words,
   burrow deeply within

Voices,
  emerge from the past

Memories,
  and dreams overcast”

Leaves fall,
  branches reach for the sky

Winter clouds gather,
  snow starts to fly

Furloughed—the seeds
  march distant and free

The season long,
  its transients flee

Vision impaired,
  past futures to fade

Acceptance—rejection,
  a choice to be made

The first Nightingale sings,
  its call from beyond

A feeling unfreezes,
  old words to a song

The hills begin thawing,
  new tracks to reveal

Salvation once promised,
  no longer concealed

Winds from the west,
   bring rebirth and enthrall

The sun melting lies,
  —and winter recalled

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Is life about how many
  or then about how much

Is the truth in computation
  or in what those numbers touch

Is the measurement empiric
  with a final answer shown

Is salvation in the lyrics
  with the word count still unknown

Is there faith inside the mystery
  that mere reason can’t abide

Is there something deep inside you
  that excuses cannot hide

Is there a wind that blows indulgent
  carrying an echo from before

With a voice that speaks the loudest
  the one you listen to—reborn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

The window open
  weathered and worn

My soul releases
  —spirit reborn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2014)

Is life about how many
  or then about how much

Is the truth in computation
  or in what those numbers touch

Is the measurement empiric
  with a final answer shown

Is salvation in the lyrics
  with the word count still unknown

Is there faith inside the mystery
  that mere reason can’t abide

Is there something deep inside you
  that excuses cannot hide

Is there a wind that blows indulgent
  carrying an echo from before

With a voice that speaks the loudest
  the one you listen to—reborn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Memory…
   the historic steroid
    —of an enlightened past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Did you waste your life
  just making money

Did you eat the bread
  and not the honey

Did you sell your soul
  as your children watched

Was your heart left cold
  in a tinderbox

Were your excuses rich
  and your reasons poor

Did you wake up full
  and still ask for more

Were your blessings shunned
  as you scratched and clawed

Saying no harm done
  “I never broke the law”

Were you teeth all straightened
  and your motives bent

Were your eyes detached
  from what heaven sent

Were your memories lost
  in some dead refrain

As a lonely footnote
  to another’s name

If you had one chance
  to re-right these wrongs

Would you hide in silence
  or break out in song

With your soul imprisoned
  the choice is clear

All joy awaits
—redemption near

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Did you waste your life
  just making money

Did you eat the bread
  and not the honey

Did you sell your soul
  as your children watched

Was your heart left cold
  in a tinderbox

Were your excuses rich
  and your reasons poor

Did you wake up full
  and still ask for more

Were your blessings shunned,
  as you scratched and clawed

Saying: “No harm done,
  I never broke the law”

Were your teeth all straightened
  and your motives bent

Were your eyes detached
  from what heaven sent

Were your memories lost
  in some dead refrain

As a lonely footnote
  to another’s name

If you had one chance
  to re-right these wrongs

Would you hide in silence
  or break out in song

With your soul imprisoned,
  the choice is clear

All joy awaits
  —redemption near

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Bubbling up through the surface,
  one truth leaches out

Like a word long forbidden,
  oft whispered—it shouts

Rising up to the heavens,
  its message proclaims

“The eruption has started,
    redemption profaned”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2018)

He shed his ego
Like a snake letting go
Of its skin
And wandered into
The land of
Ill intention
And the darkness
It harbored inside

His mirror had been shattered
There—left on the ground
Pieces to reflect
What was missing before
Until one after one
Each bad wish was contained
Prismatic
—light reentering again

(Las Vegas Nevada: January, 2018)

Looming large in my absence,
  the silence screamed out my name

Present in my rejection
—refusing to play the game

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2014)

The baser instincts
  within a higher calling
   —pain rewrapped in joy

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

Writing in meter, ending in rhyme,
  the journey became clear
   —destination in mind

Writing in meter, ending in rhyme,
  my words tunneled inward
   —their meaning sublime

Writing in meter, ending in rhyme,
  free of the ramble
   —heartbeat aligned

Writing in meter, ending in rhyme,
   the feeling immortal
    —remembered in time

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

I was there for the sweet spots,
  you for all other times

I basked in its glory,
  while your sun cast the shine

I avoided attachment,
  as you rooted our tree

And in sorrowful guilt
—remorseful I grieve

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

Destiny rises to claim the night
and orphans out the day

Adopting the silence within our fright
  —renamed in what we say



(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2017)

Poetic verse, to praise or curse,
  its edge to save or wound

Now less than dear, on fewer ears,
   whose silence will entomb

A finer point, the words anoint,
  when fired both straight and true

Its arrows sharp, to hit the mark
  —the past again renewed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)