I am the sheep that leads the shepherd,
not that the shepherd would ever lead me.
For you see,
good things don't come in threes,
they come in ones.
One bee.
A forest with one tree
One snake that made Eve flee.

I am the thunder that frightens the child,
scaring even those who are wild.
For you see,
butterflies don't fly,
they soar,
wings causing waves,
so strong,
it disrupts even the planet's core.

I am the pen that writes the tales,
a myth,
a legend,
attempts to amaze never fail.
For you see,
It is the writer that feels,
and the reader that touches.
My stories,
live,
not messed by airbrushes.

Born into a world,

A place where the nothing was my everything.

Dreaming away a dead life,

Doomed to the broken design.

Goes by a little stretch of eternity;

More than meets the eye,

the soul catches a glimpse of another,

Looks once more to find it's its other. 

Resurrected at the sound of a halo,

The bits of familiarity in the universe of peculiarity,

Resonates across the hollow.

Once more allowed to a spark of happiness,

Sweeter than any childhood dream,

Euphoria is no longer a distant memory. 

A halo full of fire,

The nothing expires,

Burns to the deepest ground 

Scared of the fall,

Dreading I shall crawl,

I touch the ground,

And I lay in awe. 

All I feel,

Is the highest of peaks.



Endlessly hungered for this love,

Bitten by rust,

Floating in the clusters of mistrust. 

Now nothing obstructs,

The mixing of two frigid souls like mist,

The flows of the river of pure bliss,

Fueling the fire of every kiss.

Now I press my head against my pillow in rest,

Knowing mornings shall be the inhales of

Musk and spices off your chest, 

In our little mosaic of truest love.

Seeps into my bones,

All the silver and gold,

Lingers For as long as time can hold.

Flaunting this treasury,

The you in me.

I stand on the precipice -
Feverish yet clear,
Shaking, consumed, saturated -
Overlooking the valley of the year ahead
Stretched out below.
I must somehow chart a course
Using only these distant glances from aloft
Which shall be revised again and again
As I forge my path.
But in this moment,
On this mountain,
All is still.
There are no words.
Only a pure tone
Ringing forth from my heart.
It is the quiet breath before.
Before questions.
Before answers.
Only this breath suffused with light.
Only truly being.
This state of awe.
This heaven.

I stand with the Shepherds of Wonder.
The leaders of spirits, hearts, and minds
To places within and without.
Those who can wrangle the wandering cries
into joyous song.
Those who can speak their minds
defending justice in word and deed.
Those wily leaders of sultry passion
who dance the pleasures of flesh.
Those whole-hearted carousers
who invite raucous laughter to exhaustion.
Those who know that truth,
however fragmented,
speaks through passion.
That reality,
however subjective,
is anchored to our place in all this.
Those who know that fear is the arrow
pointing us where we must go.
I stand among them,
Gathering the Pause,
Eyeing and toeing the cliff's edge.

Then suddenly
The swell
The stirring excitement
The revving
The sudden skip in heartbeat
in anticipation of
All future Loves, Losses, Silences, and Laughter.
The sudden idyllic nostalgia for all future cycles
Yet to pass into life
And out of time so quickly -
Future stories yet to be told
And soon to pass from all memory.
The suspense of the unknowable
In a race against mortality
Draws me nearer the edge.

I draw a breath on the outcrop.
Once again,
Like the Shepherds of Wonder before me
I find the spark to journey on
In the calm
Before the leap.

O Fear of the Lord! Wisdom’s beginning!
Humbler of the exalted! Exalter
Of the humbled! Thou, when none from sinning
Have refrained, cause Vanity to falter
In its stride, giving us David’s psalter
So that we might gain the ability
To tread well the path of humility!

O Fear of the Lord! Creation’s reverence
For her Creator! You make the poor one’s
Trembling dread a bridge to span the severance
Which disobedience made between sons
And their Father; He who all evil shuns
And yet with haste will pardon the contrite
Heart, for His mercy is His truest might!

O Fear of the Lord! Give us instruction!
By thy teaching all presumption destroy,
Lest our conceit become an obstruction -
Let not our hubris the Most High annoy!
Teach us how best this wisdom to employ:
“Know, O man, that thou wert formed from the dust;
And at thy end, return to it you must!”

O Piety! O enlightenment true!
O humbler of the haughty heart! The head
Of prideful man bows low in awe when you
Address him to the Giver of the Bread
Which is called daily; true Reverence is shed
Like light upon the soul, and darkness flees
When poor man your humble majesty sees!

O Piety! You teach the timid to
Rise and cry “Father!” When rebels arise
With clamorous shouts to overthrow, you
Teach them to fall, not daring to raise eyes
To Heaven, and pay homage with great sighs
Of contrition to their Lord and King! It
Is by thine aid for prayer man is made fit!

O Piety! Come, devotion inspire,
Let fall down our faces sweet holy tears,
Fan into a furnace our inner fire!
Fill us with that love which casts out all fears,
Attune to the voice of the Lord our ears!
To us who ask for direction you say -
“Kneel, as though you knew to Whom you dare pray!”