I was always infused by the quartz of time
I balanced love in separate hands ; cut , aching , refusing to heal

Happiness was measured out one grain of sand at a time
My measuring cup runneth over

My thoughts are bleached  bone white .
But I have preserved the marrow of my ways

I am the walking cacti
that push rocks in the sand creating the trails of tears that never reach the ground

I am desert
Full of the emptiness
that exists on the face of clocks and time

I am one grain of sand
The silence of the wind
I have no foundation
I'm tendered to my whims

Sitting on the couch with my two dogs
Cuddled with a book
Lost in history
Dreaming about loves at their height
Knowing that I am also in love
At its best
Feeling the intensity
Knowing all will eventually crash
Because all love ends
With lack of passion,
Mortality, or
Whim
But for now a good book
With a good story
On a stormy afternoon.

A mouse in a corner was I,
Wanting to hide or to fly
to a desert or forest enclave,
to a hill or mountain cave,

i had no idea why,
what turned me awry,
why black shadows haunted
day and night daunted

chased by terror and night of fright
as if the shadows could harm 'n bite,
never ceasing, no respite,
not e'en tiniest glimmer of light

i yearned self to deep-six
to sail along the river Styx
to escape, to run, aye, to leave
this place of little reprieve

i'm still running and will continue
till i learn my lesson of life
perhaps that G-d is deep within you
even when the darkness's rife