An endless view,
wispy clouds interlaced
with majestic blues.
Everyday I gaze up,
telling myself that I am looking
at the only limit
which exists.

Nothing was obvious,
nobody guessed.

Oil mixing with water
was not what
anyone looked for.

We were overlooked.

What was the attraction?
We are so different.

We’ve made it work,
meeting halfway on issues
that affect us both.

Neither hesitant nor receptive,
rather a calm acceptance of
meeting in the middle.

Thus we carry on,
apples and oranges
sweet and sour.

We meet halfway,
working hard to preserve
love and passion,
dedicating today
to improving
tomorrow.

Under my blanket
of darkness,
your whispering voice
reached deep into
this tortured soul.

Your resolve,
holding me in love's embrace,
kept me warm.

That tender caress,
offered unconditionally,
slowly drew back
coverings of self-loathing.

A prayer offered up,
amidst tears of anguish,
answered in a love
only you can provide.

You only offered
encouragement.

That is what I needed.

No judgement or rebuke.
You had no
'easy fixes'.

As I lie
in gloomy shadows,
your soft touch
cooled my burning skin.

I fell from a confident perch,
remaining prostrated
beyond the light.

But you...

you became
my strength
my words
that song which lent power
to my weakened mind.

You are my everything.
You gave the desire to stand
on my own two feet.

Thank you.

There is no such thing
as perfect silence
in my normal existence.

In waking hours,
thoughtful cacophony
fills my head,
filtering out the sounds
that really matter.

In my sleep,
dreams shout aloud
all the wonders
I recall from
distant memory.

But I came close
once
to attaining such
silence,
such aloneness.

Strong boughs held
me up, keeping me safe
from the dangers
below.

A broken grip,
losing touch with
the support
I forgot about.

Deafening pain
roared through
my very being,
muting my desire
to listen to reason.

I heard nothing,
except for my own desire
to live
in silence.

In this world that is pressed
for deadlines,
I seem to march
at my very own pace.

Sit back in comfort
my favorite café
providing a perfect setting
for creating a world
out of random words.

softly
gently

murmured voices
speak in a way
only a poet
will understand.

I will write my muse,
sharing myself with those
who care to listen.

as my hot coffee
cools down,
my thoughts turn
to the one I love.

She has never known
how enough she is,
for proper words
have always failed me.

And so I write
my words for her.

For when my time has come,
let it be said
'he finally told her,
better late than never'

Too many times
my heart has been
broken,
my spirit left
in tattered disarray.

All too often
I've responded
through the only method
I know.

Words.

Words written on
tear stained paper,
baring my soul
to anyone who cares.

Do you care?

I sometimes wonder
if anything I say
holds meaning
for anyone.

A question…
why should this
matter?

My broken heart reflects
inwardly,
to be dealt with
alone.

As I write my hurt,
I stop feeling.
My face smiles again,
a hint of a song
shines from my eyes.

Through every bit
of pain,
I learn to
grow
laugh

love.

And finally I resolve
that words
won’t hurt.

A descent into darkness,
this journey is not
welcomed.
My feet skid
as if on loose gravel,
I fall, tearing my palms
on shards of rock.

I don’t want this!

I fight, my struggle
ends in tears.

My only desire
is for peace.
Serenity now,
tranquility forever.

Your love, your strength
turns my weeping
into laughter.

You alone possess ability
to guide me back
to a passion for living,
for loving.

Answers to prayer
heal those wounds,
as slowly my path
leads to new beginnings.

Heart shaped words
appear on my screen,
inspiration comes from
within.
My thoughts leave me,
only to find a home
in a place you can
read what I am thinking,
experiencing.
Thumbs enter letters
which turn into something
that reminds me of you.
A pen swirls and dances
all about; paper
soaks up my memories,
exposing me to those
who care.
Everyone is given a choice,
to read
             (embrace my passions),
or not to read
                       (ignore my struggles).
Misunderstanding my muse
gives birth to apathy,
with the final result being
that I write.
Alone.

I took a risk,
dipped into
a huge vat of
courage.

Admitting weakness,
hinting at illness
is not an easy
road to travel.

Some understand,
but they are few.

Most scoff, believing
nothing of the torment
a mind can go through.

Yet in the darkness
of a soul’s revolution,
there is a light
which direct’s one’s eyes
to a way of peace.

Be that what it may
for you,
I have found
my strength.

His name
is Jesus.

With him by my side
and his Spirit in
my heart
I will fight.

I will be liberated
from this dank cell
of depression.

I will rejoice.
I will be free.
I will live.

The day before you agreed to marry me
we were confident that our life would be grand
how little we knew about what was to be

The day before our world crashed we had not planned
for things to go wrong with our new baby bump
but we felt grace delivered through our Lord’s hand.

The day before your doctor confirmed the lump
we still saw our future as sunny and bright
nothing has changed, we’ve made it over this ****

Through 20 years, we have never lost our sight
we are not alone, and all things turn out right.