The pantheon of misplaced fears,
Whose walls were built on oppressed tears,
Has been well-guarded through the years,
Hiding from curious man’s ears.

There is no faith that threatens fears,
Afflicting the weakest with tears,
No faith like that withstands the years,
Silent in curious man’s ears.

Unchallenged faith the true faith fears,
To give compassion through the tears,
Where questions repeat through the years,
Faith needs curious eyes and ears.

The curious confront faith’s fears,
The curious fight through faith’s tears,
The curious give faithful years,
The curious give faith their ears.

Never so lost,
Never less hope.
North Star was gone,
Let go my rope.

Never so dark
Never less light.
Landmarks were gone,
Left looked like right.

Never so tired,
Never less born.
Sunset was East,
And in the morn.

Never so scared,
Never less bold.
Map upside down,
My torch burned cold.

Never so sad,
Never less free.
Where’s that compass
Inside of me?

You exist, and I wonder how.
Of desires I feared to allow?
From dreams, did God make you somehow?
By my design are you here now?

I longed for hair silky and black,
Hung to the spot I’d rub her back,
Who’d be my aphrodisiac,
By you I am taken aback.

Your hips are curved to my design,
Perfect taste when your lips meet mine,
Made as if by a poet’s line,
I am a man but you’re divine.

I saw you before I could see,
A thought I thought inside of me,
I sculpted you in fantasy,
How is it you have come to be?

The Devil thought he had me
So many times he tapped me
And said, “Fall in love with this one.”
And I did.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times love went wrong
He laughed, “He’ll just give up, this one.”
And I laughed.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times he tried me
And cried, “No true love for this one.”
And I cried.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times he taught me
And said, “He is stubborn, this one.”
And I learned.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times I had him
And said, “No, not that one. This one.”
And I loved.

Love is in this place,
what if I am not?
I've hidden my face,
from Love I forgot.

Love’s in search of me,
Am I to be found?
Love wants to call me,
Can I hear its sound?

When feeling alone,
Love draws itself near,
And makes itself known,
But what do I hear?

Love so immanent,
Found me unaware.
Not by accident.
It looks everywhere.

The world sings love, from lover to lover,
And what if I, don’t love enough as they?
Reed warblers trill to love as they hover,
Love on their mind, they sing their heart away.

When the time comes, they exist for one thing,
Like the love that makes the hooded grebe dance,
And grasshoppers with no heart still can sing,
While I, lowly I, have not their romance.

The beasts in their beauty know more than I,
In their love season, their love is complete.
They show love as if they don’t they will die,
But I love from the depths of self-conceit.

When a lovebird calls, he holds nothing back,
How I wish I could love as much as he!
Nature gave instinct for love that I lack,
The song of the songbird is not in me.

Ink wraps its arms around an idea,
Tracing letters that act as messengers
Of hope sent from some remote area,
With defiance towards its challengers.

The ink once it’s written speaks its own voice,
Like a child set free from its parent’s pen.
The pen having etched its lines made its choice
To have its intent not matter again.

Caring for all these children in my head,
They mature the moment that they are penned.
As confidently as they each have fled,
They don’t reflect on me as I intend.

Each word is a child that I have let go,
The ink no more under the pen’s control,
Out in the world seeing what I don’t know,
But into these children I wrote my soul.

“Broken” is an understatement.
“Broken” is like a pencil’s tip.
“Broken” is just an annoyance.
“Broken” is something fixable.

Love heals what is beyond broken.
Love repairs total destruction.
Love rebuilds a thousand pieces.
Love reforms embers and ashes.

“Broken” is too facile a term.
“Broken” heals if just left alone.
“Broken” is the every day.
“Broken” is not in need of love.

Love is wasted on the broken.
Love puts soul in a crumbled self.
Love takes on what no longer is.
Love can make people out of dust.
Love does so much more than repair.
Love is the act of creation.

Flayed and tattered,
Torn and shattered,
Bruised and battered,
Never mattered.

Self-invocation,
Self-immolation,
Self-molestation
No consolation.

Bridges burned,
Lovers spurned,
Disgrace earned,
Nothing learned.

Heart conflicted,
Soul afflicted,
Self-inflicted,
Contradicted.

Hard discipline,
But genuine,
The only sin
Is giving in.

I woke this morning, inevitably,
(Thank goodness), and air rushed into my chest.
I thought not of life, invariably,
But the joy (thank goodness) gives me no rest.

I woke up and I fell in love again,
With a woman who (thank goodness) loves me.
Heartbeats and breath are no comparison
To a lover (thank goodness) fine as she.

No sooner had the sunlight hit my face
I woke (thank goodness) ever more full of love.
While life as its own reward has its place,
I’ve her in my life (thank goodness) above.

Each morning I fall in love more deeply,
Waking up (thank goodness) to have the chance.
New day new chance for this love to greet me
With life (thank goodness) and also romance.