too many words,
too many words out there
and how deeply unfair
that some simply won’t dare

too many words,
too many words unsaid
but tomorrow’s not dead
wake up, sleepyhead

too many words,
too many words to write
toss those thoughts aside
it will always be alright

too many words,
too many words a-brew
though it’s only a few
that I leave with you

be well,
bcb

life is but a moment,
a moment for you.
a moment is followed
by a moment that leads,
a moment to wallow
is a moment to breathe.
the beauty comes when
intent of the genuine
and intent of the mind
puncture each moment;
a moment defined.
the minuscule moments
that carry you through
and the significant moments
that bury you too,
are everything and anything
with intentional truth.
and life is but a moment
a moment for you.

be well,
bcb

I am as the vernal bird
boisterous with my call
this verdant earth will hear my cry
my tender, budding song

I am as the vernal bird
a hunger ill-obtained
endowed I am of nature’s gifts
yet I sing until I’m pained

I am as the vernal bird
fearful of my flight
perched above a ghastly aim
I sing with all my might

I am as the vernal bird
eternal vertigo
I will be of wit and promise
I will sing the song I know

be well,
bcb

his was a house that was bug-less
no spiders to enthral
it was duller, yes, tidy too
but no silk laid on the wall

his was a house that was bug-less
no house flies there to learn
that loitered flights and abandoned view
entails a point of no return

his was a house that was bug-less
no carpenter ants would stay
maybe three or four would journey through
but never carpenter ant parades

his was a house that was bug-less
no moth to shadow the light
see a moth's good why is a lesson true
don't be ugly blinded by the bright

be well,
bcb

as man goes does a man grow. for what he grows, he may not know. it is what he knows that he tends to show. what he does not show, he does not know. we know not what we know.

for your sake,
I will live this life as it was meant to be lived;
to love
to see
to be

be well,
bcb