Darkness pervades; an empty whole.
Tears fill this broken bowl.
The nectar too salty to quench the thirst
A brutal reminder of what came first

A Blackness, a Void. God illuminated into being.
Beauty, Belief, Faith - a false way of Seeing.
The futile attempts to make the hole whole,
but it's Loneliness that resides in our Soul.

In every being sprung into existence
the Romantic effort of Man's resistance
is Love, hailed as the Cure.
But ask yourself, "Are you sure?".

At a life with Loneliness by our side
Love's importance becomes amplified.
But Love is just a wishful lie
it is Loneliness that embraces us as we die.

the manly cowboy
settled in for the night,
after a long day of
pure athletic delight.

delivered the mail
did they,
deliciously slow
as any snail
on the go.

he opened
and read,
that a young brave was
a looking for his head.

so he got to thinking,
i'd better still wander,
way over yonder,
way over here,
so 'n he can a ponder,
ifn'  he is still awantin'
to be,
scalpin' me?

never one to hurry,
why ever  scurry?
the brave young lad,
or young lad brave,
he,
couldn't possibly be that bad!

i'll give him some time,
and not start to whine.
(and most certainly not in rhyme)
we can find,
i  am sure,
just the right cure.
thought the manly cowboy,
think did he.

many a mate,
but never as a date,
he did spend
with many a good friend.

not that he minded,
nor cared, where love was a finded.
nor with who,
nor whom,
that's entirely up to you,
before you are laid to rest in your tomb.

out in the wild,
did he spend,
many a night and day
and not a one,
did go astray.

always polite.
nary a fight.
i'll give this good brave guy
a little time to go by,
just a little to fly.

he will be a findin'
i don't be a mindin'
differences in thoughts
differences in gots.

i might be having a few
but i shall say to you,
'Hey buddy
what do you say?
think we can be friends
one day?'

with that optimistic thought
in mind
he turned to his bed roll,
rolling out in a straight line,
lookin' to find,
only,
a peaceful night's sleep
never hearing a peep.

and a brand new day,
coming up his way.
always curious to see,
ever unfolding,
however they been molded,
life's great mysteries.

with that,
he tipped his hat
over his eyes,
so very gentlemanly.

She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.

When they buried me in the dark, I was frightened.
I didn’t like the taste of earth.
And I was so thirsty.
Some people are no good with plants,
Even the hardiest shrubs
Wither and wilt in their careless hands.
You aren’t one of them.
When no-one else could see,
You took such good care of me.
Water, warmth and love.
These are my needs, but I had no voice
With which to ask; without you
I would have remained inert
A lost life, in the dirt.
See now, how I blossom?
Just a shoot, but I will astound them all
With my beauty, in time.
Thank you for caring for me,
Thank you for helping me to grow.