They always said
How much the little girl
Was like her daddy in
The way she stood
Walked 
Movements
Gestures
Cute when she was small

But the older she gets
The more she takes on
More serious aspects of
My strengths
My weaknesses.

Proud to see her
Strong personality
Flashbacks of my youth.
Strong-willed
Free in spirit
As a young deer
Kinking up its hind legs
In defiance of constriction.

A free spirit sees
No need for the fences
We build to contain it
To control our so-called
Base instincts.

In her my strengths are
Magnified
but oh
So are my weaknesses
My weaknesses magnified!

Looking at this
Living mirror of myself
Seems to
Magnify
Intensify
A normal father/daughter
Relationship.

I think I see clearly because
I think I know myself so well.
I chastise myself
I condemn my weaknesses
The mistakes I made in my youth.

I look down at me
She looks up to me.

They say she is
So much like her daddy
But she is much more.
Part mama
Part gran
Part grandma
A tapestry of traits
All formed in her
Along with what her social
Environments have
Sown in and reaped of her.

The teenager often sees the
Outward beauty of a
Model or movie star.
Someone is always
Better looking
Someone else always
Has more of something.

I try so hard to help her see
That this is so common
A feeling.
She is above all this
She is not run of the mill.
I know she knows this
Somewhere
Deep inside.

Time has proved
That I see more
Than what meets the eye
But this knowing
Holds possible dangers.
I can see ahead to
Warn her of trouble
But there are troubles
That she must endure.
Over-protection
Every caring parent knows
This pain.

I do not want to fail her
But distance seems to grow
Between us when
I monitor her progress
When I push and ****
To make her less like daddy.
She shouldn’t be like me
I have too many regrets.

In the night hours
I sometimes hear sounds
That I cannot distinguish.
I hear fluttering sounds
That I think are birds
Flying out of the trees
But in reality it is the wind
Blowing high
Through the pines.

I see shadows of strangers
Seeking mischief
Shining bright
Lights at the family tent
In the cold
Half-dream-state
Of the cold night
But reality says it is
The distortion of the campfire
Through the fabric of the tent.

I cannot always distinguish
Certain sights and sounds
At certain times
But time reveals what
They truly are.

But to bite the tongue
When I wish to scold
Out of season.
To stop focusing on our
Likenesses to the point
Where I cannot differentiate
Between what she used to be
And what I used to feel
And the individual soul
That my daughter is.

They always say how
much she is like her daddy.
Maybe daddy needs to change.

That lasting life change
So deep, so heart felt?

How is it born?
That deep inner knowing
A place of understanding
Connected to what Is
Divine within each of us?

As we work together to understand truth
What lies within each of us and directs us
To the deepest desired connections
Of our intertwined hearts?

Is this within?
The unfolding Inner most being
A Higher Spiritual Self?

The Spiritual Man
The Spiritual Woman
Who's purpose exposes
Our strengths and weaknesses
With expected and unexpected gifts?

As our weaknesses bring
Us to our knees
Lamenting our life's challenges
Crying out our broking hearts
Evaluating the known and unknown
How do we begin to move along
The Way Home?!

Do we go into the unknown shadow of darkness
Only to shriek and back away?  
Or do we chose to allow courage
To accept our steps into it's presence?

In spite of our fears
Will we allow courage
To forge our greatest strengths?
As steal within the bellowing fires?
And if we allow resolve
Will we find deeper wisdom and truth
Beating within the sacred chambers of our hearts?

The opening is before us.
If you place a hand on the door
Open it wide!

It was then!
He stepped into the shadow of
His own darkness…..
Finding himself alone
He reached his hand back
Toward hers.

Stepping into her own shadow
She grasped his outstretched hand
Pulling, supporting, anchoring together
Both facing the Light...

From within their own
Shadows of darkness
Holding fast,
They began their journey together.

Step by step
Line up on line
Precept upon precept.....

Staying strong

Providing a listening ear

Even when fear is reinforced

Strength shines sunlight down on me

dries the tears.

Hope is  there.

The light at the end of my journey’s tunnel.

Through thick and thin

I never give up.

For, in life, we never stop trying…

Until death’s stalker’s follow

Begins.

We talked.
No I was rude,
You talked at me.
I listened,
Pretending I didn't,
You knew.

But with that I got something better.
An essence,
One I'll use again and again.

You showed me my eyes made me who I am.
Your weakness define your strengths,
So should you really rush to erase your weaknesses?

Nay, I'd rather be wise:
Strengthen my strengths,
Acknowledge my weakness.
Then I won't trip over them.

I'll consciously work around them,
Casually get where I need to go.

It's a lot of work to fill your weaknesses,
Work I could put in becoming wise.

Thanks Wolf.

The question is asked again and again,
Where do we come from? Who are we?
All throughout life men and women great
And foolish have attempted to explain this,
"In a moment all will be explained,"
"If you pay more money you will be cleansed,"
"Not worshipping is the realm of the insane,"
"With these soft spoken incantations you will mend,"
So where do we come from? What is all this?
From rushing water, breath of air, no need for
Recognition, it's all miles away in some deserted
Forest, to be left for later generations to forget,
Let this be an answer, why are we here? I shall
Obtain eternal life if I just hold this vile
Closer to my heart, a work of vain art,
This isn't life, this is the illusion of life,
The answer nestled in a small cave,
The birth of a newborn bird, a ripple in a pond
From a rock that fell during an earthquake,
A vague reflection of a deer in it's surface gleam,
All of this and more, the darkness of night,
Cloaking terrors real or imagined, what is this?
Maybe one day we will know? This is how fools
Are born, clinging to this or that, a drop of water
From a vile, an answer from a simple written text
That proves it's all happened thus far. This is why
Fools are born of this, opportunists, blinded by dust,
The great way of those who gather to take advantage,
This is where the greatest numbers of fools gather.
Far away, the beautiful forest, I may not know what brought
This all to life, but I do know what is worth saving
And what only fools shall save for themselves...

Vicious black rage enveloped his eyes
Electric hate cycled through him
Naturally he resorted to the action he knew best
Graphically and meticulously he planned his revenge  
Enhancing his weaknesses into strengths
Forward he went, ready for bloodshed
Undoubtedly he went for is first five on the list  
Letting his cold vexation take over

-EC