I saw the Earth once, and fell in love.
I wanted to be named dirt.
You laughed, called me mud,
But I love all things that hold up the sky
and You forgot that one is part of the other
and that I am part of everything.
I remain,
                both dirt and sky
You
       disappear with no name.

I remember watching Grandad
Whenever it would rain
He would walk around the house a lot
You could tell he was in pain

See, Grandad fought in World War One
Though he never said a word
He was hearing things inside his head
Things no one ever heard

He hated rain, it made the mud
And that's where it began
Fighting, deep within the trenches
Keeping dry as best you can

Everything was always wet
You fought the ***, and fought the sky
The battle in the trenches seemed
To find ways to keep dry

Fifty yards away, no more
The enemy was waiting
Would today be when we made a move
Both sides always waiting

There were no birds up in the sky
Just clouds and all that rain
That war was stuck in Grandads head
And it was driving him insane

My dad would watch as Grandad walked
To hide from that **** sound
You know that all he thought of then
Was that trench, and muddy ground

You'd wrap yourself in what you could
You'd use  uniforms of the dead
Taken from your cohorts
Soaked in mud, and stained blood red

Boots, soaked through like paper
Feet wrapped up as best you could
The mud was everlasting
It covered everything but good

Dad, said it was painful
To watch Grandad on those days
He would hide so deep within himself
In a deep, dark, mental maze

The sun, it never dried the earth
The water just sat in little pools
With the sunlight bouncing off of it
Leaving drops shining like jewels

The smell, of rotting corpses
Piled high down at the end
Bodies of the fallen
The bodies of your friends

Dad said it was different
When he went off to fight
It wasn't like his father's war
It was just like day and night

I remember when my Grandad passed
It rained the whole day through
I remember as they lowered him
Now, I know what Grandad knew

The mud, the worms, the water
Filled his little six foot trench
And everyone was soaked on through
In my mind, I smelled the stench

I feel sorry for my Grandad
Because in truth, I like the rain
And I feel so sorry for him
That it caused him so much pain

The horror of the battle
And the act of keeping dry
You might defeat the enemy
But, not both...but, you'd try

I remember watching Grandad
And of how he hated rain
But, my Grandad was my hero
And, now I know...he's out of pain

chorus:*
Why did I worry
And why did I sin
And why was I just so conceited
And why did I roll in the mud of the world for so long

Why was I angry
And why did I cry
And why did I judge those I hated
And why did I waste love on those that I didn't care for

Even when darkness knew what I feared
He knew what I needed

You quickly approach
A puddle of mud
Small enough to step over
But you thought it'd be fun
To splish and splash
And make a mess
But it's dirtied your face
And ruined your dress

You stomp out of the puddle
It has ruined your day
You look back in anger
And head on your way

But what is to blame here,
The action or trouble?
The mud or the splashes?
The person or puddle?

Don't walk into mud
Then complain of the mess
If you want to stay clean
Just watch where you step

Not all, but many outcomes
Are up to us
So be careful that your actions
Will lead to what you want

The mischievous Orange cat (is it really orange?) gives me that look, that kinda look that says "oh you can understand me huh?"
All of a sudden the trees lean in and look me directly in the face with that ancient glare of wisdom.
Wait.
The pond.
The pond fairies emerge from their hiding place to give their greetings as the sun shines down on their home.
Aaaannnd the enthusiastic dog jumps in to play but scared them away.
Wow, the mud is really good at massaging my feet.
Is that hill breathing???

Feet pressing
into soft ground.

Bits of wet soil
paint our sandals.

With the incline
rises my gaze.

Mud spots legs
and freckles appear.

A smile touches within
seeping out.

Receded then as
a spring in cold months.

Suds soon would
wash away the
speckles of folly.

Caught in my own thoughts

Lost in this brutal silence

I feel these sharp words, cut through my heart

Walking around these loud streets,
Feels like walking around a dark forest,
Or perhaps a heart drowning in a pond filled with mud

I am looking for something,
Searching for something,
Something that is not easily found,
Something that is not easily described,
Something that is not easily put in words,
Something that is felt,
Something that is said by many,
But meant by few