He wrote poetry

As one may take the bus

Patiently waiting in the eye of the storm

His storm, the storm of thought

With or without cause or fuss

Or an element of uncertainty

Whether or not the wait will deliver

Deliver us to the fate of salvation

i spent
the afternoon on the
lawn in a clover patch
plucking the 4th leaf off

because last month
was so clouded
and i shone too bright

too gaudy

but now i'm here
fixing these little *******
taking their 4th
leaving 3

increasing their chance of survival
like i did with that worm
on the sidewalk this morning
i
picked her up and
hurled her into grass and
I didn't look back.

sometimes salvation is violent.

All of those past events
The mountain climb, and the descent
They're scrolling past to lay my
Destruction.

And once I'd gone to the other side
Despite all that I had left behind
They've started hunting for my
Salvation.

And they're gone,
Yes they're gone,
While I'm torn
In the maze of my
Contortions.

And they're gone,
Yes they're gone,
While I'm tearing
The fabric of my
Illusions.

Your effort are not as bad as you think.
Those tears aren't sign of being weak or vulnerable.
You are kind and precious.
If ever you find people still hurt you quite way off from what you've thought they never do — Always to choose the path of forgiving
It doesn't mean that you are too easy to be discarded.
Instead, you are strong enough to tell them how you value their time,
How you care for their sake,
And how you treat them in a way they deserve to be.

It isn't your mistake to love.
It is always their choice to receive your love or hurt you in pieces.

I’m walking on my failure
Like the water in the sea
Out there I see my Sailor
He is calling out to me
All I need is meager trust
That His grace won’t let me sink
On His boat is written Just
No water removes that ink

Selmhem Naise

Remember the movie
"Terminator"--
the first one?
Sarah was being hunted
and Kyle was sent back
in time
to protect her from
the machine-made Terminator

  whose only purpose in life was to end hers.

How was he to know that
when he entered into her world;
    he was going to fall so deeply?
And without his entrance
into her life--  he
would have no reason
to come across time for her--
the fruit of their love
would have never been born--

the very reason
for the very reason  of the killer's mission.

To try to figure out
and understand
where this perpetual cycle
of love began,  would
bog the mind--

      all that can be done
      is acceptance
      or rejection
           of that love.


      Yeah, but what a love it was--
      Kyle came across time for her.

My eyes flick over the textured ceiling,
connecting dots and making patterns
like some kind of giant Rorschach test.

I surrender to cliché and tell myself that
if I can just get through the night
that tomorrow will be different,
that everything will be fine in the morning,
but the dawn rarely brings salvation.

I close my eyes instead and listen
to the sounds of owls awakening,
asking questions that have no answers.