my fingertips are numb
filled with feathers that ferry no feeling
i press, i ****, i reach out for more
i know my fingers are there
they're simply just numb

my ear drums are throbbing
silence smothers them in a suffocating stillness
i strain, i scream, i yearn for a sound
i know my ears are viable
they're simply just unsound

Remember
Training
Is Your Sacred Weapon Against the Unknown
Use It Wisely
shhh It Will Guide You Thru This Test of Fortitude and Challenge
Few Are Those Who Find and Make their Way Both

From Creek Beds Dried
To  Mountains
In Mourning and Back Again

Do Not Be Fooled By Visions
For You Truly Have Your Own

Eyes Of God
Ever Present
For Her Is Only Ones

Running. running, running so fast
Away from my fears, away from my past
That's causing me many tears
In which I cannot see clear
My vision now blurred
My hearing now impaired
By the lies that I've heard
Not really knowing why
Why me?
Why now?
Why then?
And how...
How could this happen to me?
How could anyone let this happen to me?
How come it happened to me?
Questions, questions but no one had the answers
But then I met You
You knew just what to do
You helped me see
The future that was before me
You helped me hear
Through all the voices that were there
Having You here, right by my side
Has been more than I could ever describe
This journey of discovery
Is now causing me to....
Run, Run, Run so fast
Into the arms of the One who knows no past.

Written by: Luwarner T. Moore
Wednesday, May 18th, 2016

frogs "croaking"
in front of me, in the reeds
crickets "chirping"
behind me, in the brush
countless coyotes "yelping"
from across the lake
bass, carp surfacing
under a yellow moon
unaware its shimmering shaft’s
a magnet to my eye  
and more lullaby to me,
who can yet see spectral waves
but lost cherished vibrations--like birdsong,
winsome whispers--eons ago

Not even a question anymore
Just wondering

Do the vibrations
That are concocted
From deep within the
Silk that nestles
In my esophagus

Do they reach
Your diamond implanted
Drums of sound
That can translate
Every woolen word
Into reality?

I would give up my sight,
So you could see how beautiful you are.
I would give up my hearing,
So you could hear all the nice things people say about you.
I would give up my heart,
So you could love your self.
I would give up my voice,
So you could say you love your body.
I would give up my mind,
So you could think about the good things and not the bad.
I would give up every part of me if it would help you.

If I never wrote
people would never know that I live--
does that matter--
it sure does to me.

That when my thoughts
and words
all my experiences
never hinted to involve another person.

How can anyone ever know:
that I think
I ponder
and I thrive
that amongst all my knowledge,
desperately I pander
for the eyes atop hills
and inside the trees around me

to speculate about my life,
when the wind brushes
through my hair
and sweeps across plains
knocking into trees
and leaking into your homes.

There are hints of my brevity
lingering within the air
and next time you speak
you'll realize that these words,
are not yours alone
but the words I've snuck
into your mind
with the wind.

There are those with strongly held views
Who can be extremely forthright
When it comes to certain issues,
Believing they alone are right.
To shout and roar is not my style
Though that may come across as meek,
My quiet nature does beguile
For the last thing I am is weak.

Rather than force my opinion
Which alas many seem to do
I prefer at first to listen
To other peoples points of view.
By doing so I learn the facts
While showing others some respect.
Then can respond and not react;
Have a more positive effect.

It shows great insecurity
Or a lack of self confidence,
This seeming inability
To deal with valid arguments.
It is totally arrogant,
Makes absolutely no sense.
It is completely ignorant;
The height of low intelligence.

Don't just listen.
Feel.
Because the answers don't always come
In loud preachings and audible words.
Sometimes they come
In the dark of the night
Brought by the silent whispers
Or the cold midnight breeze.
Sometimes your heart hears
More than your ears do.