Poison ingested,
defenses engaged,
struggle to survive,
turmoil in its wake.
After all that,
I refuse to be among
the walking dead.
I will rise again.

It is a night like any other.
The room is semi-crowded,
the lights are cool, ambient and allusive.
The music glides and shimmies,
reflectance of electronic symphonies,
with a sinuous pulse to
provoke and tease.
Still, you sense a creeping unease.
You are on your second drink...yet,
somehow, even the 12-year old
Macallan is getting a little too familiar;
its usual savor of spiced plum, dry sherry and
salted caramel dies a slow death
by a cold-water corruption -- its once
robust quaff is reduced to a faint, forgettable flavor.
The dreary day, too, has been flat, predictable,
diffuse in focus and devoid of passion.
Life has been set adrift, on trepid tides.
The dissonance of these thoughts
unsettle your soul and mind.
You feel some kind of reckoning  
approaches and is unavoidable.  
Under your breath,
you ask in fraught confusion,
"What time is it? Why am I still here?"
The Bartender sees the lingering trouble
in your face and he provides
a moment of empathy, of quiet
understanding.
He reaches for the bottle in response but
suddenly stops and looks past you,
over your shoulder.
A subtle smile forms where
a sober shade once stayed.
He sees something that has changed
the energy in the room,
pivoting as if on a dime,
to a sweeter wave,
a smoother flow.
Someone approaches…
You realize you must turn to look, but
slowly, friend; get your bearings...
Settle your thoughts for a beat or two.
You stand and turn, adjusting focus...there she is.
"....wait. Whoa...
Breathe, brother. Steady, soul!"
Then it hits you:
You realize the sensation you feel,
that unstoppable, sharp, sweet,
seductive suffering,
is the longest and strongest
Of long, lost friends.
You remember
why you are here.
You know the time,
this moment you've waited for,
for so long.
Your heart speaks and  
your eyes lock in,
to capture hers:
"Hello..."

First, I shall slip into sleep,
dark and deep.
Then, morning will rouse me
to life, with it's breezy,
cool breath,
the gossamer, peaceful sun-light
and your golden, eternal beauty.

The crushing night draws near
but we huddle closer,
hands and
voices extended in support.
The raging fire shatters the
divide between safety and chaos,
but we burn hotter
for the peace we know,
the homes we built,
and the bonds that sustain.
The howling riot
tramples our culture as
our society shudders with hysteria,
but we keep our faith
in humanity high;
we look upon this trust as our
Stella Polaris,
our guiding light!
We will never surrender
to the fear, the dark
or the savage within
or without.
Nothing shall defeat
the beacon of truth
we hold in our hearts.
Nothing will diminish the
dauntless dignity
that arises from our core!
For there is a redeemed
future yet to be realized.
There are ingenious flights of creativity
yet to be cast,
and there are heroic stories yet
to be written...
In the end, right now,
there are humble hearts
-- our hearts --
yet to create beauty in the world.

How is it that we become great?
By never letting go of hope!
Great, by always reaching for our better tomorrow,
no matter what!
My heart tells me
to always look to that side of
the coin,
as it rises and descends...
the coin of fate twirling air-borne,
glittering high,
pinging out
that true harmonic ring
in a moment of outrageous possibility!

Realize
that the world is old
and you are new.
But your soul is older still,
and the mysteries
you will fathom are, finally, few.
But, be present and listen...
for the air around you
carries a sacred truth,
and you will see the clues.
Go forth with eyes alert
and become one with
the wild blue.
As you wander,
as you courageously
reach,
you will discover
what is true.