I heard it said one day
That in our history
A name used to be
More than just a name

I wondered what
My name would be

But I pondered
For a very short time
For I think that I do
Know my name
Instinctively

To know my name
I merely look at
Myself
And my travels

I think that I have been given
Two great gifts
That do rule my life

One is great
And makes me whole
The other I fear
Might tear me apart

The first gift I believe I received
Was the gift of joy
In everything

For sometimes I feel
All the joy I feel
Cannot be bound
In my body

It bursts through my pours
Spills out of my mouth
Falls from my eyes

The other gift
The darker one
I believe is pain

And though I detest it
I believe that
It too is a gift

For my joy comes not
From a life of ease
Without a thought or worry
But it triumphs over the death
And despair I feel

And so my name
Though I know not the word
I believe would mean

There is great pain
And great joy
But behold
The joy triumphs the pain
And is all the more beautiful
Because of it.

Sometimes I wish I had
A looking glass
That I held it my grasp
Able to do my bidding  

For I would use it, all the time
To look just down the road
To see the path that I shall go
Before I take my steps

For many times I wish to know
If I should give a thought
The concern I do
Or if I am but foolish, worrying about the meaningless

That which I would strive to learn
I think would give me direction
For many things come my way
And I cannot win them all

But I think if I
Could know which way I will go
It would change my life
I might be better off

But though this thought is in my head
I do not think I truly want it
For how the joy of things unseen
When they do arrive.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

The kindness of a friend
Is like rain
On a land besieged with drought

It fills the soul
And wets the eyes with tears
It brings hope to a hopeless place

The love of a friend
Is like a thousand lights
In a dark room without windows

It floods with new light
And now made whole
Overwhelming joy in a place of great fear

The words of hope, spoken by a friend
Are like the fire of a lighthouse
To a ship on a stormy night

It opens the heart
And breaks sadness apart
In its place a new song.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

I search for home
My heart so desperately longs
To be where I am loved
And I love

To find a place
To rest my eyes and my mind
For I feel I am in a twilight
Never truly at peace

The more I search
The more I find
That such a place is not in my reach
At least not now

For those I love
And all that bring me ease
Does not exist in harmony
Though strive as I do

But someday I believe
I will find a far off country
And there I will be filled
And be complete

Those I love will be all around
I shall run, completely free
My eyes dry and my joy complete
And I shall be whole.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

Sometimes I grow unhappy
With my insufficiencies
And then I am reminded
That someone values me

A small word to my character
Brightens my whole day
And though this desperate seems
I know I was made this way

For I do lack much
And need desperately to grow
But still I know that I have
Been given things unique

Sometimes I struggle
To resist the temptation to just let go
For this becomes so desirable
To just let myself fall away

But I know a hand will catch me
Should I try to fall
So even when I have not strength
I will not even start to lose at all

And so I still continue
Whether in joy or pain or both
And know that someday this dark battle
Will finally make me whole.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

Two men under a moonlit sky
Stacking stones

With heavy hearts and tired limbs
Stacking stones

Others slowly passing by, look and wonder why
They are
Stacking stones

The men know, though others question
That they have good reason
For their enduring habit of
Stacking stones

Their journey to here long has been
Trial marking and marring their way
Still they use the last bit of their strength
Stacking stones

The benefit they get
From their laborious task
Is worth the price
Of fortitude
That they pay
Stacking stones

The men finish
And turn
Finally going to their homes
To rest, if only for a time
From what seems like the ceaseless work of
Stacking stones

A small child
Young and innocent
Questions the men as they pass by
Returning home, no longer engaged in
Stacking stones

The men turn
And manage some few words
To the one questioning
Why they are
Stacking stones

For these stones they say remind them
Of how far they have come
For many many many years each pile represents
To them a reminder
Of a victory won
And so when all seems lost
They look upon the hill
Where their have toiled
And then they
Cannot help but remember
What they have accomplished
To drive them to go on
Stacking stones

So as long as they can lift
These rocks from the rushing river
They will carry on
Stacking stones.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

I have two hearts
Within my chest
And though they are so close
In proximity
They beat so differently

One heart bursts with love
And yearns to be whole
It strives for peace
Works to hope
Plans a future

The other one
Acts less nobly
And makes me ashamed
Of the hate and pain it harbors
Inside

I hope one day
To rip out
My second heart
For I do not
Want it anymore

But for now
I know that I
Have not the will nor ability
To slice myself open
But someday.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)