I am not a machine with a full tank of gas
I am a human being with limits, and food is not just fuel.
I need nourishment of all sorts to be fully alive.

Sometimes all I see are empty eyes in this urban jungle
that I call home, even though my heart belongs in Appalachia.
I am a mountain boy away from my true home.

I long to feel the morning fog roll in,
and hear the songs of the cicadas.
I love seeing fireflies in the summer time,
and the feel of a summer rain coolin' my skin.

I am not a machine,
a thing to be valued merely based on
production and function.

I have value, because I have life coursing through me,
and I sing the song of the Creator in my soul.

the ten dollar bill is folded over on itself
she cannot see the zero, only the one before it
as it sits there undisturbed beside the empty bottles
one beer, one water
one prescription lotion
cap still lying open as the
comfort inside hardens into dust
and the room is full of nothing at all
but the empty and the misinterpreted
as she lay there staring in the still silence of life
no noise, no light
no sign of motion
in the entire house but the
gentle tap of her fractured fingers against her leg

corrosion of the soul
happens slowly but surely
by crushing grind of monotony.

each day society tells me my
value is based on my function and production,
and little by little I am crushed by failing expectations
that are not my own.

my soul slowly corrodes into nothing, but
out of the vast emptiness, life emerges again.
I yearn to be free, and this time I bear my
wounds with honesty and dignity. I am
unashamed about my soul being free to be me.

I have value period, not based on function or production,
but simply because I have a spark of life within me.
a divine spark that gives brith to new life
within me each day, each moment.

Remember that elementary game?
The one that you say you love someone,
Then avoid each other constantly?
Like how the sun and moon
Chase each other,
Yet never meet?
Let's play that game.
You can be the Sun;
I'll be the Moon.

The Moon envies the Sun:
He shines bright, giving life to all.
The Moon's beauty is dull,
Reflecting only what she captures
From the glory of the Sun.
On the night where he runs faster
Than she can chase him,
The Moon cries,
Lost in the darkness,
Haunted by the emptiness.

Does the Sun miss the moon
When she falls behind?
It's not noticed if he does:
He shines bright either way.

Sometimes
The Moon wonders,
"What would it be like
To be the Sun?"
All bright and glorious,
With many envying him.
Remember one time that
She stood out,
That she proved herself.
That never happened:
She was only ever the Moon.

She shines,
But in no way is that
Good enough.
She wants to be with the Sun,
To learn,
To grow,
Just like everyone else.

But when the Sun
And the Moon
Meet,
Everyone is silenced into
Terrible and terrific wonder.
Is it right to be together?
Is it good?
Is it safe?
Panic sets in the Moon,
And they part as soon as the
Moment came.
Does the Sun love the Moon as
The Moon adores the Sun?
Does the Sun
Ever Miss the moon?

The Moon will never know.

Every moment of a
sunset is pleasingly
different, as is my
love for only You

Every moment of life
which passes by, are
full of seconds of
change its true

But unlike some things
which could possibly
change from better into
something worse

His love will never
lose it value but
will steadily grow
in its priceless worth

For even if it changes
each day, the tender
warmth of His love
remains the same

And because He cares for
every one of us, it will
cleanse many hearts of
their pain

The strength of His
love lies in spiritual
power, a holy essence
which will never fade

His love is powerful
in its nature, which when
received in our hearts
will always stay

...for He is eternal love.