What on Earth deserves our trust ?
Youth and Beauty both are dust.
Long we gathering are with pain,
What one moment calls again.
Seven years childless, marriage past,
A Son, a son is born at last :
So exactly lim'd and fair.
Full of good Spirits, Meen, and Air,
As a long life promised,
Yet, in less than six weeks dead.
Too promising, too great a mind
In so small room to be confin'd :
Therefore, as fit in Heav'n to dwell,
He quickly broke the Prison shell.
So the subtle Alchimist,
Can't with Hermes Seal resist
The powerful spirit's subtler flight,
But t'will bid him long good night.
And so the Sun if it arise
Half so glorious as his Eyes,
Like this Infant, takes a shrowd,
Buried in a morning Cloud.

It is not always easy to express one's self
When his artistic creations are never placed in galleries
They are often forgotten of
Sitting there gathering dust on a storage shelf.
It seems as if ten more people are at the same task
As which you create with
Comparing their outcomes to your own
Your light of hope fails to light
Due to many missing you that must express
such visions
A dog starved to the bone.
Eyes meet the other exhibits
As your kiosk is primarily never sought for business
The confidence of challenge is there, however, it soon melts away
When all of the hard work which you have placed
in expressions for the world to see
Fade to darkness like the "dark side of the moon"
As night simply ends the days.
Questions remain about what you are truly "gifted"
at or "ahead" of other game pieces on the board game of life.
When so many are inventive such as you
One too many is a crowd.
You pull down a fake smile. A fake shrowd.
Now the net is neutral
Damaging my once vibrant flow
As my hands are now tied to how I can grow
The rules of the game are now many and harder to get around
Like a roadblock in your sight of your future
The air begins to become too thin and your mind weighs heavy
As the cut in your creative inventiveness
Bleeds too heavy and needs a "miraculous" suture.
Needing others on my team
Every time  I seek out such
I'm the "driver x" at the "speed races"
and the "forced gun" to bear uninspiring
and lonely expressive paces.
Is their justice to the laws limiting one's freedom of expression
just to protect those in the "top few?"
When the own half of the platform on which you try and "compete"
However, you are too small to be seen as "you."

Life
As a child of God
Will never be easy
Or simple

There
Will be dark nights when
It seems that the sun
Will never shine again

There
Will be hours of
Bitter weeping where
You wonder

If
You could ever
Make it out alive
And intact

Clouds
Will close in and
Lightning will strike and
Rain will fall

Pain
Like an arrow
Will shoot hard and fast
Into your chest

You
Will wonder if
God was ever at
Your side

But
When the clouds pass
And at long last the
Rain drips away

Then
A brighter morn
Will spread it's wings
Against the stormy sky

And
Gently push the
Shivering rain
Away

And
The rainbow of
God's greatest promise
Will fall again

It
Is then, dearest angel
That you will forget
It was ever night

Warmth
Like the arms of
A great beloved
Will enfold you

Gates
Of pearl will open
To greet you
Survivor

And
Daring knight
Of the prince
Bidding you enter

And oh
How your heart
Will leap into
Forgetfulness

Of
All the darkness
And the shrowd
Of older days

And
Run into the arms
Of a Savior
Who would never
Leave you helpless