Pain sits with a held hand.
It is enough.

Pain rises, carries on,
It was enough.

Because it doesn't want
To perpetuate the pain

Of others.
There is always enough.

When the glass is filled
One stops.

My grief lies below the 6-foot mark.
Yet, my hope rises above that depth
Where there are many hands to hold.
I recall that hope is an anchor for the soul.
And then I come to understand and know
That I can endure almost anything.

Though things at present may look bleak.
Everything points to a brighter future.
What fuels our world's beauty, forests, fields, and gardens?
Is it, not decay, the litter layer, a waste uncultivated?
Superfluous matter feeds life and produces beauty.
"One man's trash," as they say, or animals for that fact -
Our systems are breaking down, building up, breaking down
Again.  In this churning regenerating it is giving hope.
The hope of a bright new world, before us, springs up.

So many countries are like old junkies
Who refuse to give up their favorite drug
First, the teeth drop out, and they have no bite
Until the person rots from the inside out
And become walking skeletal remains gumming

Those who are selling hate as a commodity
Do not care to know that when each person
Is lifted up, regardless of gender or race
We all float to the surface where there is
Room for all.

Will the pluses outweigh the minuses?
The plus is a feather-light ephemeral thing.
A minus can weigh many, many tons.
Of the two to fall on you, choose which one,
Even though, my friend, it is already too late.

Steel your spines,
For the days ahead.
Much damage will
Be inflicted.

For those enchanted hours,
We traveled farther than
Anyone ever could.

Steel your spine,
For the journey is impeded,
It has only slowed.
Life and love will go on.