As I watch the water explore the air faithfully,
I wonder where it comes from.
It rises
and it falls.
I want to be able to approach its origin,
discover why the water is compelled to
rise
and fall.
There simply must be a source.
This violent display of
rising
and falling
cannot exist without reason.
Alas, my searching is futile.
The rising
and falling
continue in spite of my ignorance.
Will the explosions of water always
rise
and fall?
Will they perhaps cease
if I find the very reason they faithfully
rise
and fall?
Or will I forever be impelled
to passively watch this persistent
rising
and falling?
I’m slowly beginning to give up the search
and started just hoping these monotonous eruptions
stop.

Death told her
           her life should end
and he was her friend

Calmly, she stole my gun
     she walked outside in the sun
pulled the trigger, set the mood
barrel to her head to conclude

I saw her head come undone
,,, Reached down, for my gun
Eyed the chunks in her hair
Now to my head |
                               |I draw a rose there.