I am siting here pondering
While pensive about my future
What does it hold?
Do I know?
Or don't I know?
Will I know?

Many questions, many answers
I want to work again
While I can again
This is a goal I want
This is a goal I must achieve

I 'll have to seek it to find it
Not just one I"ll seek
But many until I find the right one

A Tree of Life with roots of evil will die in the storm,
before it’s ever born.
The sun will be its father, and it will be raised by mother earth.
If it soaks up knowledge it will survive its birth.
Sprouting ideas while growing its spirit.
There’s a whisper in the wind... be quiet and you can hear it.
Doesn’t need to fear it, when the weather gets cloudy.
It knows its true colors and reveals them proudly.  
It cannot be not shy, because when it looks around.
It realizes every other tree is similar,
Just different branches in the ground all waiting to be found.
Discovered and loved; nourished by nature.
It realizes its reflection is its only true stranger.
Covered with bark so you cannot see the inner.
Shadowed by the dark, transforms to a sinner.
A stump at worst, and a home at best.  
Too much is in between to explain the rest.
Now let it be known, when the red leaf falls,
It’s the end of a season for no apparent reason.
Time to change its ways; it won’t take a few days.
Give it time to mature to reach its full potential.
It sounds so simple, yet gets complicated.
When it timbers down, something new is created.
It went from a seed to sprout, conquered any drought.
Now with a shout of thunder, it just can’t help to wonder.
"Why am I here, and what is my purpose?"
But if it received the answer, would life really be worth it?

I'm putting the tea to boil...
finding a spot on the earth in which to sink,
a heart string to play, my mind to think
and untangle a knot of toil
I'm putting the tea to boil

Something warm to come
porcelain cups and waiting lips
hibiscus leaves and rose hips
within the heart a thrum
stirs a ripple in a steeping conundrum

My last verse has gone missing
it’s sound, sans words, lost half in slumber
so half awake, and torn asunder,
by answers hissing then bristling
then comes the awaited harmony of a kettle whistling

I realized today that everyone prays
To someone, in some way.
And I realized that yes, there are stars in New Jersey.

I remembered that everything is a passing phase,
As though we are the wind.
And I remembered that there are, in fact, stars in New Jersey.

I accepted today that people will praise
As often as they do betray.
I accepted that there are stars in New Jersey.

I witnessed tonight their beautiful gaze
As I sat on the rooftop.
I witnessed those stars in New Jersey.

Sometimes the sins laugh
frolic chuckle and gasp,

whenever wrath sits there
calm and tranquil, unending care.
when Pride takes precious time,
to look up and face humility,
to remove the thin veil,
to observe another person and care.
when slender lust embraces
for another, soothing the soul
creating safe sanctions - free of sale.
when      g r e e d      gives        to       charity,
               providing,
      safe          havens,
when sloth feels the urge
to work, forging iron bars
and even making emotions and life time scars
when gluttony shares his
fries, and full course meal
when envy faces the sins - and says
‘it’s okay that lust is more curvy, I know I’m happy’

This is all a façade of course. envy said it with morose.
gluttony? He had another meal, and another meal right after that.
Mirrors reveal the real corpse. sloth daydreamed the dream.
greed? what else but the space he took?
How can we be something else. lust has lackluster snide, snark and ***
Pride? He has a deeper veil - one that escapes his avail.

Sometimes the sins want to be sinful.
And sometimes wrath wants to be wrathful.