See a crystal blue stream
Flowing through green trees
And tumbling over mossy stones

See the bright sparkling gleam
And hear the light breeze
Blowing leaves in musical tones

In your mind
Become the stream
Yielding and bending
Rhythm with no ending

Relax and breathe
Let go and flow
You are always giving
Power to all living

This crystal blue stream
Remains a symbol for you
A stream of prosperity
To last your life through

I wrote a poem,
Back when they diagnosed me.

About my fear of succumbing to my depression.
Begging it to let me go down swinging,
Terrified to eventually lapse into indifference.

I named it “Icarus”
And I take it back.

Burn my wings.
Send me hurtling down to Earth.
I’m tired of fighting.

My arms are broken from the fall,
And I can swim no more.

Burn my wings and end it.

There are whispers.
To be heard.
Some that overwhelm giants.
Render firing lines paralyzed.
Even topple societies.
A single word from the right mouth.
Can be the sweetest honey ever tasted.
Or a slow acting posion.
One that can not be spewed from its entry wound.
A Feeling all too real.
That even imagination begins to bleed through.
Every pore.
Every dark pit.
Can not even fathom.
Its origin..
For the dark is where it came.
And so shall forever more.
Remain.