That stained glass cross
Adds much needed color
To my foggy sacred ground,
But it don’t stop those glowing eyes
From watching the part of me
That will live forever.

Now the decision haunts me,
Whether to weigh down
What lies deep down inside me
With a stone
That defines my time on Earth
And allows my tired bones to rest forever…

Or,
Allow my spirit to breathe naturally
Like mother nature intended
And risk allowing demons
To dig up the part of me
That should never be unearthed…

Until I do,
My legacy will remain in
An imaginary purgatory.

Even if you are
Just a shooting star
Passing through my heart,
You'll forever be
The moon to my soul.

I listen a whisper
         I hear a shout

I hear the sound of…

         A ranting child,
                  A scolding adult,
         A crying woman,
                  A shouting man,

I do a three-sixty
         Look to the heavens,
                  Stare down at hell

I curse the confusion,
         Embrace the madness

I question my sanity,
         Answer the insanity

I only hum in the daytime,
         But sing to the night

Searching for the clues
         Without a need to solve the mystery.

Life’s moments are grains of sand
In the hourglass of the human spirit,
If you allow those grains
To slip through your fingers
They become the dirt
You will be buried beneath.
If you do not cry
Your soul will dry up,
To deny love
In fear of heartache
Is a self-made heart attack,
When you choose
Not to laugh
At the little things
Is like wearing
The Grim Reaper’s face.
My many attempts
To inspire you
Was my way
To revive you,
But your vital signs
Tell me it’s too late…
So with regret
I will call it,

“Time of death, the moment you took your first breath.”

Inspiration is
The wind and I am but a
Leaf riding the breeze.

The colorful leaves
Of autumn strew on the ground
Shows beauty in death.