I kick the earth beneath my feet
as I walk towards my flock of sheep.
Snow, it came in force last night
(my bedroom door was frozen tight).
Yet, as I woke, I thought of them.
How many did the cold condemn?

A shepherd? That I call myself.
Yet, I've laid my crook upon the shelf.
I read in tales of shepherds grand.
I'm no more a shepherd than a man.
I sleep in warmth and they in cold.
Of me, no stories shall be told.

And I do believe I am a fool.
I go on about "I am so cruel"
The pasture finds them sleeping well.
So quick to say what had befell.
No, I am no shepherd. I'm just a fool
Who forgot that sheep were dressed in wool.

a cool and windy morning
the sun upon a cloud
bring forth in me a wish to see
the forest and the tree

i continue to the forest
no idea of what i'll see
as Nature gives a magic show
within the canopy

the birds provide a concert
sweet music to the ears
squirrels do acrobatics
chasing friends and fun and fears

the Garden gives a bounty
your senses fancy feast
as we finally see the beauty
we never saw within a beast

Nature is a wonder show
so many splendid scenes
entertaining us forever
with every last routine

as a viewer we're responsible
we must give it support
we must take it to the white house
and fight for it in court.

it must be made as law
and forced through the legislature
or else i fear we're bound to see
the final act of Nature

I call upon my pen and pad
to prove my worth tonight
As I grow fat and lazy
I lose the urge even write

It used to be in words
that I became a useful man.
But, now its not enough
just to write as though I am

Words speak high and mighty
but its actions that proceeds
Too concerned with my desires
and not enough about my needs

I'm determined to become the man
my words have said I'd be.
If my dear pen would just oblige
I'd like to reach my destiny.

The season that is playing now
          brings forth a sorry tune.
No more Southern breezes.
          Sweet memories of June.

I find I am outside the ring.
           Within I tend the fire.
Ablaze not only leaves and sticks.
           I burn my soul entire.

The flames lick my wounds,
            but do not heal the pain.
Fire condemns, it won't create.
           What's gone is gone and naught remains.

And yet, I cannot walk away.
          This fire, it is mine.
Born the fruit of friction;
           Immortal and Divine.

What purpose had I hoped to serve?
           It never works as planned.
The servant now the master,
          I must feed it on demand.

Eventually, I am consumed;
          A victim of attrition.
The flames will wear us all away
         once we provide ignition.

I find I am inside the ring.
         I no longer tend the fires.
Ablaze is only leaves and sticks.
         I've burnt my soul entire.

We have the dream when we are falling.
It wakes us up so filled with dread.
I think its our subconscious calling
bringing ancient fears to us in bed.

The dream that is, the dream that was,
is what actually could have been.
No fantasy does what it does.
This is a gift from pre-man men.

Pre-man men, he lived in trees,
swinging, eating, sleeping, too.
Perhaps it was his greatest fear
to break the bough and fall on through.

At night they must have dreamt about it,
so afraid that they would fall.
And passed this dream into our minds
and at night we can recall.

Our collective mind, it is immortal
It won't forget for all of time.
So remember that this dream is but
a monkey on your mind.

Every time I think its time
I open up my past.
I think of days now stored away
yet, wishing that they were today.
Just one more chance to try again.
I know the answers I need at last.

But,
that could never be,
and I, now forgotten, am the last of them to see.
People younger than me,
they leave me far behind.
Did I simply miss my shot
or is it that I'm blind?

Too long the years I did not care.
Too soon the signs of losing hair.
If time could stop
and give me slack.
If I could find a passage back!
I want to thrive, to drive, excel;
To have a story I could tell.

But, this fleeting chance
I'll never know.
Perhaps the world deserves it so.

Its been so long since my pride has let me see
I have my faults, and yes, they get the best of me
I was inside a dream
thinking I was what I see
But, now that I've awaken
I know that 'I' could never be

Its not too late, I can do if I decide
I know I can improve
and that my will will turn the tide
From some pocket, now unseen
I'll pull my strength and walk behind it
But, that pocket, still unseen, somehow I need to find it.