The world came from nothing
Ciphers into an endless darkness
No light, like when asleep, and there
In the vast caverns of the mind it
Holds nothing sacred to keep

But even I dream, dream of beautiful things
Things that I  hold dear to me, people I love
And around to see the beautiful things I see
They can hear what I hear and feel  what I feel
And it all makes sense because it's real

The cool breeze of  the fall
The changing colors of the leaves
The sun cascading it's magic upon the trees
Everything seems as it should be

Can there be anything so right
I can taste the dew of the night
See the waxing moon shine bright
And hope there comes another time

But through it all, what if I die?
Then what, where do I go from here?
The world aimlessly rushes to nowhere
And I am caught up in the hustle
The seeminglessly vast tyrant holding
Me by my neck, waiting for death to take me

Close my eyes, what if that's all there was
Just complete darkness, no thoughts
Nothing.

Butter peas for breakfast , naked with soap in the backyard , shower in a thunderstorm , intricate guitar without audience ! Three piece suit with combat boots , seeking White tailed deer , inquisitive with camera and apples. In tune with eight pathways , practicing morning metta , quoting Hemingway , lover of Sandburg and Whitman . Spring , Summer and Fall gardener , philosopher , in tune with Dusk , infatuated by Dawn , adventurous as Monarch butterfly , faithful as Mourning doves . Committed to prose and the power of true love , imagination sprinkled with cold hard reality at times , armed with dictionary , thesaurus , paper and ink pen , quick with the truth , compassionate , Southern and opinionated , emboldened , struggling with creativity , searching for his niche in society .

Why should I cry
He did this to himself

Am not sad
why should I be

It's a beautiful night
the weather is nice
and am enjoying my cigarette

It can be cold
Ice cold.
Like snow.
So its hard not to trust the warmth
That some handshakes exude
But the cold that ensues,
can..
Freeze your inner organs solid

Locked in a cycle,
Of where the heart aches,
with silent, distant and intimate terrors,
Which memory never takes.

A white screen,
Ink filling in,
Whimpering in the distance,
Something deep within.

Something lives on,
Though no more the life,
Worlds beyond,
Legions in strife.

But still, the wheels
Rolled on never to be.
Divided in life,
United memory.

To the person,
Who never was,
Will always be,
Within me