They are both crowded, my calamity and your selfishness.
Our birds left, and we are still whistling for the sake of patching this failure.
That colorful portrait you etched on our hallway is pondering integrity, still wandering into this massive mess.
Our woods are filled with broken musical boxes, as we are still there, sensing their tenderness, drowning in our psychosis’s final chapters.

A lot of people in the world labor under the weight of too many things
they have accumulated in their lifetime and to which their mind clings.
_______

The passion has almost gone
of love and longing for Thee;
there's no meat left on the bone
for devotion's heart to see.

Instead of looking within
the mind is focused outside
with the body getting thin
life's mercy is to confide.

One just can't ignore the signs
that can be seen by the eyes;
age seems to be drawing lines
and there's no comfort in lies.

Like a dog eating a bone
it soon gets to the marrow
and for this it eats alone
with its eyes being narrow.

We become what we're to be
over a lifetime of years prone
to the ups and downs we see
and fruits of our efforts grown.

It's by grace we can transcend
what it is we have not seen
so the hours we've got to spend
will determine places been.

If we stick fast to the path
and don't deviate too far
we won't incur any wrath
and even shine like a star.

Life's course involves such a plan
that we may glean in the mind
looking deep enough to scan
at its source of light we'll find.
____