Calm is the sights and sounds of twilight and sunrise
Peaceful is the soaring eagle in flight above
Grateful is the blossoming flower receiving the morning dew
Joyful is the sound of children's laughter as they discover their world
Disappointment is when I turn on my television and all hope is lost

The moment arose, less like a siren, than a sunrise
And I, I began to confess

Not to a lover, or a priest, or to the lover of a priest
Instead to a rain soaked stranger sitting beside me
who’s eyes afforded me assurance that my burdens
would find safe harbor upon his shoulders

Though I churned slowly at the start,
like a steam engine, rolling downhill, my pace quickened
As I transitioned from casual transgressions down
the rabbit’s hole, rich with growing shards of truth

His knowing glance, like Santa Claus to a wayward child,
set at ease any concern that time was limited
and so I slowed, rather than rush past some truth
that demanded full accounting
while in him I found familiarity that I could not place

Though his words were few, they were will chosen, marveling at how
matter-of-factly he regarded my menagerie of secrets, sins and lies,
always with a short story, similarly slanted, in the life of someone he once knew

And feeling not the least put off,
I reached asunder and pulled the roots
of the most stubborn weeds and laid them plain upon the bar as he,
accompanied by a cup of tea, relieved them of their tenacity, reconstructing them as sunflowers whose season,
now soaked with light, was yet to come

I shared the deeds I did, for what I misunderstood love to be,
and how far I had fallen from the places I once stood,
at which point he chuckled
drawing sticks on a napkins back
to show me how much higher I was standing
since making peace with my reflection

Yours are the stories of the world he said with tender conviction
The lies you’ve told, the chase for gold the fear of ever getting old

They are but songs in the opus that you’ve just begun to write
And not a single passerby out there in the twilight feels less guilty
They simply have not yet found the courage to look clearly in the mirror as you are now

And like a caretaker, he swept my confessions into a pile,
exposing a small scar, circle shaped on his left hand
as he coaxed, then chided them into the silver light
that reflected off the bar  from the street lamp that stood patiently in the rain

Without a word he tipped his hat and set off on his way,
while the bartender, perhaps in kindness, charged me but for a single tea

The days to come were filled with love
and more wonder than I’d thought there was
as I, unburdened, learned to walk, then to run and fly

And truth be told the stranger had not crossed my mind
until the day a careless step left a peculiar scar so very strange,
circle shaped on my left hand

There once was a man from Bombay
Who enjoyed a remarkable day:
     It started at sunrise
     When the sun chose to unrise,
And it ended when Earth rolled away.

id like to be anywhere but here,
staring out the classroom window,
watching the traffic go by,
the colors of the painted sunrise,
the heater of the other building
puffing smoke out of the roof,
the bare boney trees,
this teacher lectures on pointless things
that looses my peer's attention.

I'd like to be anywhere but here
experiencing things,
not just dreaming about them.

I know its plain
I know its sane
I know its white and hung outside
And the nails are inside out.
And they crisp you dry.
Its so lonely when the eye's are blind
And they look away, outside.
Its almost like your tomb is inside out .
Your mausoleum is spitting out pen pals.
Its lonely when you're hung out to dry,
Like an angel delight thats butterscotch blind.
Hanging high beneath the beetroot sky.
It won't matter now.
They'll blind thier eyes.

i wish i were an artist,
wish i could paint the way i’m feeling
as a beautiful sunrise
or an unimaginable storm.
i wish i knew how to illustrate without using words...
words are not reliable.

What I see everyday I can not put into words
I see clouds move fast or slow across the sky
Rising to see the sunrise knowing that it is true beauty, is nothing I can put into words
Words cannot describe how much I feel to be alive
On the most boring days the sky can make your mind go on adventures
The sky shows how much beauty can really be alive in the world because even in the darkest hours there is still beauty in the stars or when the moon shines bright.
Even on your worst days the rain can wash your troubles away
All you have to do is look up.

Walking in the cold rain
Alone and
Going nowhere
Just hiding tears in raindrops

Always dreaming of being lost
Lost and then
The endless fall
The gasping awakening

But always the rain will end
And sunrise
Put an end
To the cruelty of night

And life will begin in warmth
And hope
Blossoms into
The sweetest softest petals

                                           By Phil Roberts

A sweet summer day
Come to meet me in winter,
A pleasant surprise
That I cherish and hold on to.

A golden ray of sunshine -
Mine to have and to hold -
Dropped right out of the sky
And into my heart, where you now have control.

A glorious sunrise and sunset swirled into one.
Bestowed upon me for reasons unknown.
The ornament of happiness,
Strong enough to me my soul glow.

it's six o'clock
in the blessed am
and the coffee in
the bottom of my
mug is getting cold
the day is starting

with the familiar sound of
pen caps snapping on
and off sliding back and
forth in their plastic sleeve
she sits in her chair
in the dark only a tiny
blue light to shine on a
sigh here and there

i am fully made up
and totally cold
listening to the furnace
and snores that hum through
walls the scratching
of my own pen on paper

all is quiet before
sunrise
but if you listen
you can hear

what can you hear?
peace and quiet
close to that found in the
middle of the night
only less anguished
and more stoic

and so on this morning
we rise to our grind
rinse our cups
and carry on

With rough hands, she was the only thing that made them soft.
New experiences protected by their roughness.
The orbit of her body their center.
They kept her safe.
She admired their scars.
Their courage to love as they did.
To properly deflect the asteroids that threatened her orbit.
To hold a fire such as she.
Their standards high, lifting her high above.
An explicable star shooting across the sky.
With hands like a fortress.
They cherished every sunrise of her smile.
For all that she is.
She is blissfully unaware

I know how you like your tea
and your favorite latte.
I know your favorite candies
and how you like to be held rather than to hold.

I don't know your favorite color
but I can tell you the color of your eyes when you're laughing
is brighter than any hue I've seen.

And I don't know where you are now,
but I can tell you where you took me
when you told me your childhood memories
and about your dream last night.

And I won't lie
and say I've counted every freckle on your shoulders,
but I can admit
I've counted every time I've noticed them.

The best way I can explain how I feel
is to let you know that I'd miss the sunrise to lay next to you instead,
And I know I've never felt that way.

I miss the
Wisconsin sunrise.
The taste of crimson skies
In the moment just between
Drunk nights
And mornings.

I am here in Suburbia.  It is easy here, watered lawns and life like the weather is mundane...perpetually perfect,  monotonously sunny, and manufactured.  The people too.  They are afraid of rain, of cold and the beauty in discomfort.  They are afraid of pain and so while their facade is approachable they are distant.  

Men fall in love with me for the same reason.   They say, "I have never met a woman like you."  And I know this is true at least for these bearded boys confined to a radius of conformity.  

But women like me, we are everywhere we allow our rebellious selves to flourish in expression.  These are the women who not only raise warriors, but are warriors.  

There is an old city, a city of faith... weathered with the age of monsoons and dry heat.  Her wrinkles in crumbling adobe.  She offers a sunrise and sunset with colors that do not have names but are emotions.  And in the open sky, her thoughts have no hindrance.  The high desert has tested her and her offspring.  And unlike suburbia, water is scares so when it rains...people remember to dance.  

She has a history but does not hide her history because she is authentic.  Without her past, the dirt of the land would never have been fashioned into Great Cathedrals, humble churches and miraculous staircases.  It is her tribulations that ground her, for the winds of March uproot those delicate spirits, consuming them in a cloud of yellow pollen.  

It is her authenticity that saved her.  Liberated her from the fate of materialism, feckless white paint on the perimeter of social confines.  No, the fences she builds are sturdy, deep into the hard caliche.  Mismatched in height and beautiful…beautiful in their practicality…not only keeping cayotes out, but standing tall for what she stands for.  She liberates herself from the fate of the living dead.

She is the real woman who men love.  A woman of grit.  The woman I want to be.

after the alcohol
rots our insides and
the morning sunrise
stings our eyes and
the fact that we didn't die
today, after all of that, there's still
smiles to see and
similies to say and
hope that the weather'll change and
the gusty wind won't blow our thoughts away.

well anyway.

Does the robin have a Monday
Where he can’t get out of bed?
Does he wake with one eye open,
Feathers tussled on his head?
Does he curse the tardy sunrise
As his wings begin to squirm?
Do you think he really gives a crap
If he gets the early worm?
Do you think his wife starts chirping
‘Bout the raven guy next door?
Do you think he’s tired of hearing
How she wished that he’d do more?
Do you think he longs for younger days
When life was much less stressed?
Don’t you think he’d give a million grubs
To stay sleeping in his nest?

You’d wake up before sunrise
because you said you couldn’t sleep.
Not that you liked watching outside
nor the light creep,
and you certainly were't interested
in watching the earth bloom.
There was nothing magnificent enough out there
nor in the bedroom.
You couldn't speak to me; said it was too early.
"There's no place like home."
"I've got to get out of here."
You swore to yourself you'd be gone
by the end of the year.
So yes, it's my fault, I can't be what you need.
I can't compare to the beauty of what your reality seeks.
Then I guess i'm not meant for you;
I'm not your friend
your addiction
nor as strong as your ****.
The sky was inadequate
without the stars;
nothing compared to the way they gleam.
But you’d say that I’m the one
with no dreams.

Aaran: Let sleeping lilies lie, come what may
Each season has its time
In a field of gold blossoming, promises of spring
Of quality delights, yet but one is mine
Selected at their prime
Time is of such essence, render my heart s-t-i-l-l
Enamoured by this quest
O’er craggy hills, set on high
A myriad of mountains, piercing the sky
Through valleys of low, sifting through the land
A humble search within, of untold promises
Of whom is it I seek?
With the choicest picks of many
A fresh vineyard of plenty
Of room for such bold gallantry

Pearl: If nature tells a tale, is it such truth that I will seek
Of incomparable promises, adoration from above
A sacred lavished love, freely unconditional
Let righteousness prevail
A redirected ship sets sail
To steer towards his ways
Lest I avert love’s true course
A freewill field of freedom
With the choicest picks of many
A fresh vineyard of plenty
Yet a tarnished trail, leads to solemn ruin

Aaran: With renewed clarity, I’ll endeavour to please
Yet only one can appease, unwholesome ways
Bless my earnest days
In seeking you
Of desiring truth
Draw me back to you
Present wonders and clues
Yet of whom could fathom
Of my own understanding
Dare I leaneth not
To acknowledge truly the king of kings
Yet will my offering be pleasing to thee?
With a patchwork of progress
Yet to digress!
Misguided in the mix
Would thou now fix
To so fill a void
Of actions mistimed
Such an opportune time
Yet in this vineyard of plenty
I have selected not

Pearl: With vivid retrospection, beyond a quick glance
To recapture redirection
Choices not to my betterment
Such steps lead to a
F
A
L
L
A calling forth to consciousness
A gentle quiet voice
To hasten towards unfolding arms
Re-establish the connection
My Sovereign protection
My keeper, my guide
Of unharnessed energy
Be rechannelled set me free
No longer captive, twas lost – now found
Now replanted on solid ground
Such land is lush, fertile for growth
The gift of grace, bestowed on me
Yet interlaced with love for me
Search my heart
Explore the depths of my soul
Of a contrite spirit, a new heart in me
A catalyst for change, rearrange my compartments
Renovate from within
With purposeful living
Let it be so declared
Replanted in the vineyard
Encircled in care

Aaran: Where is my equal, of mirrored completeness?
Rare unwinding roads, let me venture to find
With cascades of choice
Yet a still small voice
Calls me back to thee
To search so diligently
Of the selection
Beyond our protection
A compromised yield – from a field of choice
Of qualities unqualified
A diminished light
Yet captured in your sight
I could run ahead, but a thousand miles
With aims to hide
Strayed from the path
Yet you would find me!
Like whispering leaves – you follow me!
I am your child
“Draw back to me”
Such energy spent
A tent of retreat

Pearl: If I am yours and you are mine
Here engrafted into the vine
With offers of replenishment
Drawn towards a living well
In essence to thirst, for a fragrant spring
From the wilderness, lest I return
With all that I yearn
I give to you!
There are no secrets hidden from view
You know my thoughts
You know my ways
You have carried me through all of my days
Sunlit rays of hope shines through
A maker of all things new
Apart from you – bereft of truth
Of magnitude
In wondrous awe of all you do
I surrender all to you



Aaran: Let their be none of me, but all of you
Without your workmanship – I build in vain
No substance of change
Effort exhaustion
To bear no truth
Outside of your will, no perfection of peace
Fruitful production will cease
Of majestic wonders, your sovereignty reigns
Your craftsmanship unparalleled
Emboldened tower of excellence
Such is your wisdom, of invested time
Creations of the divine
On the heights of love
Exceedingly above
All created things
Exhibited signs of majesty
Concerning me, you tend to my case
Casting all of my cares
Of honourable justice
Cocooned in compassion
Love unending
Continually the same
You reign on high
There is power in the name

Pearl: Soulfully renewed, with a sound mind
Confine the spirit of fear
Wash me with blessedness assured
Cloth me with sacred strength
Direct thy paths
Of intrinsic value placed in me
Keep me hidden and close to thee
Blossomed fruits of maturity
As a living vessel
Radiate your royalty
Of such a season as this
Rested beneath your wings
Guard my heart
A time of preparation
Be formed and refined
Yielded to the master’s plan
I shall seek your face
Of sovereign splendour
A veil of grace
In the midst of your shadow
For your appointed to find
Of your perfect timing
Of your perfect will
A laid foundation
A covering of silk
A precious pearl
A virtuous call
Of standards to surpass
With favour from high

Aaran: Instil in me, due diligence
To plough the field in solitude
Exuding excellence
In the accomplishment of a purposed will
Restorative rest
From tests and trials
Of requisite skills and character
Create room for special providence
A shadow of insight
Of your wondrous works
Let the vine be preserved
In season, to make the acquaintance of
A significant love
Of help to protect thee
Righteously reserved
To enlighten thee
A time of revealing
At a distance awaits
Preservation of patience
In your image created
Promises belated outside of your will
Of futile attempts to evade your plan
For I am not my own
There is help in you alone
Presented cares at your throne
In your presence may I stay

Pearl: One cannot underestimate motives established
In opposition to
For outsiders of the recognition
Of my true valuation
Let them locate me not
With casted lots they can but ill afford
You know my worth
You have me preserved
In safe keeping
Until an appointed time
True justice is thine
Let your kingdom advance
Counterfeit collectors
Of no business in here
Adorn me with your covering
Glory be to you
With humility and honour
To seek your truth
There is none like you
Blessed be the temple
I have been redeemed
For he is my keeper
Let me return to thee
A prized and treasured purchase
Such gems are rare
As a living sacrifice
Be pleasing to thee
Honour you in worship
With mindfulness take heed

Aaran: There is a ruler in the land
Of covenants and commands
A mighty love
With jealousy, of mercies that endure
He reigns forever more
Of the future and before
Of granted seasons
In spirit to discern
Of faithful steps where I am tested
To stretch established trust
“Will you walk with me, to a place that you know not”
With former ways forgot
A courageous look ahead
In spirit and in truth
Let me follow you
Every facet of my being
Awesome depths of knowledge, wisdom and understanding
Of paths to pursue
On ahead we shall go

Pearl: Do they possess your righteousness?
Were they sent in your name?
They have not your likeness
Conflicting with your plan
They bring no completeness
Disharmony abounds
With such fruitless planting
Upon rocky ground
Yokes of inequality to establish not
Presenting common gifts to exclusivity
Of access unauthorised
Of acts to displease
Claims of validation
Such will be disproved
Of a different team they are
Of their travels from afar
Of which of these can be after your own heart?
To see beyond the shell
Where favour cannot reside
Cast away their pride
Return from whence you came
Patience is a virtue
Let my life exemplify
With your gardening of reason
Of true love amplified

Aaran: To trust in your timing
Let your ways become my ways
Recharge my focus
The potter moulds the clay
A rebirth of integrity
A calling forth to lead
Of due responsibility
Opportunities embraced
So I shall arise
Evolving ever wise
Symbolising service
Blessed to be a blessing
Gracefully equipped
Faithfully serving
With reverence so aligned
Of seasons placed on time
Of suitable design
A man of the divine
A vessel of virtue
A good thing I will find

Pearl: An objective of order
Contemplating eyes
For whatsoever you find, that is unlike you
Be extracted, be removed
Reestablishment be loosed
One appointed master
Of obedience to you
Old ways be overturned
Of varied lessons learnt
Refurbish and restore
Bring your authority
Be the head about the door
Brought beyond brokenness
Restorer of joyfulness
Complement contentedness
Companion incomparable
Character in confidence
That of transformation
Faith in the intangible
Supernaturally sure
Intentional living
All of which I strive
No desire to arrive
Countering complacency
His bold divinity, will enhance my days
Divine provider of wealth
Of spiritual health
He stands in the gap
A bringer of true balance
His care is unabridged

Aaran: At such an appointed time
A climate of change
I will recognise my dearest
With opened eyes
Like the dawn of sunrise
I will be drawn to thee
Of natural beauty
He will spiritually advise
To have found the one
In accordance with your blueprint
Of events orchestrated
Of joyfulness elated
How precious is thee!
Seemingly hidden from view
With devotion to development
That our paths would cross
To begin our journey
In one accord
Of such blessings to afford
To one day so stand before
Our maker
Declarations of love and commitment to thee
Of such a blessed vision
One day realised
For until such a time
Let me wait upon the Lord
To seek first his righteousness
Before our holy covenant
I shall wait on thee

Pearl: As events unfold
Let all that you touch upon turn into gold
With wonders of mystery
Bold miraculous signs
Nature’s seasons ever changing
Truly divine
With no division of time
Of cares undivided
Due attention to you
Reveal to me your truths
As I soulfully meditate upon your daily word
Lest I depart from righteous ways
Lead me all of my days
May I cling to you
Love’s loyal devotion
Blissfully lost in your word
You guide me as light
By day and by night
Enlightened watchtower of constancy
Exalt you in your sanctuary
For you have created a work in me
For your word shall not return to you void
In you I shall prosper
Accomplish I will
Of promises spoken
Shall come to pass
Let your divine order take precedence
Let my cup runneth over
Bring wholesomeness
Your blessed investment concerning me
Left not alone
You called me as your own
Selectively sought and set apart
To kneel before you with humility
Your goodness washing over me
How much greater can this be?

Aaran: A creator above all
You catch me when I fall
Of whom could match the wondrous treasure I have found in you
The sacred gift of your beloved son
For my salvation
With victory already won
In fellowship with you
So to feast upon the bread of heaven
My daily fill
You are my strength and you are my shield
A fortified fortress that stands on high
There is none like you
No tower could be built, that could surpass you
Of whom could reach you with earthly hands
Or overrule your divine plans
To fathom the works of your mighty hands
Truly appointed before my formation
You laid the foundations
Of which to create
Blessedly ordained
For your holy purpose
Qualified
I will embrace
Thou art is divine......

To read the remainder of the poem please purchase on Amazon

I picture myself crushing
an orange, star-shaped pill.
Pressing a bit into your palm as we exit your RV.
"I probably shouldn't," you hesitate,
but I press on.
"Just try a little. You'll like it. I promise."
So we taxi away,
lacing sticky fingers around each other
and plastic cups of beer.

We lean into electrifying music
that sounds like an emergency room or an ongoing migraine,
but the tremors feed us.
You pluck a styrofoam light saber off the ground and hand it to me.
I watch its blues melting into greens dripping into reds and orange-yellows and it is the most beautiful thing in the world.

You claim you don't feel It,
shrugging all cool and nonchalant.
So what’s with your magnetic gaze,
or the way your trembling fingertips trace my lips?
Why are we tangled up like this, all wordless and gooey?
And what about your pupils—the way they are filling up your eyes?

“Well,” you concede.
“It just makes me want to have *** with you.”
But it’s more than that!
Every moment vibrates with magic!
And all I want is you
and the sensation of skin
against bare skin
and to be enveloped in that warmth again.
I relish the blurring of our lines,
the way I can’t tell when my trip ends or yours begins.

And in the hours that creep towards the sunrise we plant
ourselves on the dock.
Fill our lungs with smoke.
Count the patterns moving through the lazy black tides.
And you tell me all these profound things you’ve never mentioned before.
And I forget almost all of them.

But the thing is
We are falling in love.
You could never say It,
so I have to.
And I don’t want it to feel intense or weird—
but there’s intensity and weirdness already
brewing beneath the surface of our interactions and
now that I let It in
you feel too far away from me
when you’re only across town.
And there’s not enough of you
to swallow me whole
And It scares me.
And It comforts me.

Because you love me
even when I can’t bear to be loved,
and I unravel
because somehow I know – I’ve always known –
that you’ll never hurt me
worse than he did.

Clumsily stumbling around,
With two feet dancing poorly,
Awkwardly approaching I,
Force you to feel uncomfortable.
Uncoordinated and frustrating,
You find me so.
Easily, confidently abandoning,
Left behind, left for dead,
Dancing with two left feet,
Positioned by your heart,
To try to catch it.
I am all that’s left here,
Dancing in a darkening room,
Dawning comprehension,
No sunrise to be seen though.
You were right to go,
Needed comfort and the norm,
The standard for easier days.
You are right.
I am left.

Dreams are bursting
out,
popping.
With a subtle hint of
Phosphorus.
It’s a conundrum.
To hold onto the past,
while promising the
future.
That you’ll be there.
Forever.
The way it goes
is strange to say the least.
Delving
into slight madness.
Life’s tongue
in your cheek.
Who is truly holding
the strings to
this show?
Showcasing
fact into
folklore.
Unleashing the imagination.
Warping  what we believed,
what we thought,
sensed,
touched,
felt.
Wishing the penny could be flipped
once again
into the well.
This count down
begins at sunrise.
It never progresses.
Like the light at
the end of the tunnel.
Exploding into fire
and a cloud of
haze.

Ashes to Ashes
And Dust to Dust,
Passion and passion
From dusk to dusk,
I wake up gasping,
your name on my lips,
Between hazy dreams,
Settling between my hips.
Where some nights I writhe
Because I’m Wound far too tight,
In your arms, I move
Because it feels far too right.
If I had any sense
Of self-preservation,
I would release myself
From this sinful gratification,
But even in the safety of solitude,
All my morals neatly strung,
The first thing I crave
Is your taste on my tongue.
It matters not what I know in my brain,
In my head,
Dreams bring your most depraved needs
To your bed.
Night is a strange time,
The space between day,
But not even sunrise,
Keeps the darkness at bay.
The longer I wait,
Delaying my fall,
The faster I’ll expect you
To pick up my call.

I hate this confusion
I just need time
My love, we are soul mates but it doesn't mean you're mine
It's complicated and messy
And people feel used
But at least we share an intimacy
That others can't relate to
We stay friends, we get along,
We have a title.. We fight
Why can't we be like the others?
Make love, and call it a night?
A night that turns into a new sunrise,
Where you'll still be mine?
But not in this time, not in this life
When you were drunk, passed out on the floor,
someone told me you'd never be ready for this... For something more
But maybe I'm paranoid?
Maybe I'm the one that has no clue?
Because I think you're talking to me, but you could really be longing for someone new.

A woman not known in fame
But as I go further I will explain
But to start off, the memory of Irene Rubinson that will remain
Her job involving a publishing house
Ms. Rubinson smiled through her daily pain
Yet it was her courage that will remain

Ms. Irene Rubinson’s battle with Cancer
She worked up until the very end
As I worked with her, she seemed to bring a certain happy blend
Her sunrise of remember me
It was her smile for all to see
Darkness being a moment
A seat sits with no one present
Ms. Rubinson’s legacy, “Through the struggle’s, you will preserver”
But deep in her heart, Ms Rubinson knew her finale was coming near
Ms. Rubinson’s motto, “Is have no fear”
Live your life as much as you can
This was Ms. Rubinson’s journey for all the remember
This also includes as you slumber
Tomorrow has awaken with sorrow
But Ms. Rubinson was her own morrow

I will never forget that day she interviewed me in 1981 and gave me a chance
I learned the publishing house with knowledge in advance
My eyes see the vision she saw
Ms. Rubinson gave me inspiration to explore and take my career and just soar
But it was her personality in thank you to all
But she answered to Heaven’s call
It has been 33 years of how long she has been dead
Yet it was her encouragement that helped me to stride
Ms. Rubinson’s life she lived well
But it was inspiration what makes my heart swell
This is her story and I am the narrator in tell

Irene Rubinson, the memory of your personality through and through
But those reading this have no clue
The many rains, snow and season changes
One thing that will never change will be the remembrance of her personality
A heart that knows with understanding that shows
One whisper in sleep on, but your aspirations that stands with Heaven’s reward in where you belong.

She's still the same girl.  Her smile has changed, but she's still the same. She still believes in chasing the sunrise and falling in love with the night sky.
She's still the same girl with big dreams.  
She's just a little more careful, she guards her heart.  
She has learned slowly to fall in love with the art of the wise and the forgotten.
She thinks the most beautiful stories from from the souls of the lost and the minds of the broken. She chooses to see the love and beauty within her fall. She has become a beautiful tragedy.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

On top of the world he may be,
but satisfied not is he,
destined to move on,
search for faraway lands,
so nothing can sate his thirst,
a reprise for his never-ending curse,
to reap the grains and store them in a hearse,
a silo of his own desire,
an infinite craving for surplus,
roaming the cosmos alongside us,
destruction and mischief does he cast,
for planets and creatures in his path,
he seems them as trash,
disintegrates them into gas,
returns his victims to an elemental state,
and when it comes to time - he is never late,
for time follows him on his journey,
while he runs errands planting seeds,
serving up clean slates and vaporizing galaxies,
he is never hungry; for he has no needs,
he'll give you no mercy if you're on your knees,
there will be now warning before you're deceased,
so learn to face death with ease,
to walk through his doorway carried on a breeze,
and then thank him for his deeds,
for without him there would be no life,
no rabbits, no horses, no people, no bees,
the differences would be easy to see,
for we would have no life to lead,
no legs to move and no air to breathe,
no songs from the birds or the sway of the trees,
so let's take time to appreciate that which we cannot see,
the beauty in your eyes,
every pair of lovely eyes,
and every Buddha in disguise,
the visions we see in the sky,
when we witness someone cry,
watching your loved ones dies,
sharing with a special someone, a cherry pie,
having trust without any lies,
eating some deliciously hot french fries,
a tender caress of a warm thigh,
the world we experience through our mind's eye,
taking of a bite of juicy apple before it dries,
and seeing the sunrise,
are some of the reasons,
for a better world,
we shall strive.