Blessed

When I look up and see the green mountain tops, I am home. When I cross the James and look down on its mighty flowing waters, I am home. When I feel the cool breeze blowing across the valley floor, I am home. And when I realize that this is only a taste of the home to come, merely a shadow of that which You have prepared for those who love You, I am left humbled beyond words or comprehension. Thank you Lord.

You have blessed me

beyond all that my mind

can comprehend,

You have led me through

traps and snares I could not see,

bringing me to perfect places

I never knew existed;

to You do I owe

all that I have to give;

Your mystery is unfathomable,

Your glory beyond mere words,

You stretch out Your hand

and all creation is silenced,

You speak and Your word

becomes reality;

the Holy King of the universe,

the Lord of all there is,

the Great I Am,

Ruler of Heaven and Earth,

my God,

my Everything;

let me praise You

forever.

.

.

Sitting in a Mall While Growing Old

“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.  What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?”   Matthew 16:25-26

“The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”   John 12:25

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son. This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he as done has been done through God.”   John 3:16-21

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”   John 16:33

it’s not easy growing old,

but then again, it’s not so bad either,

there’s a calm sort of peace,

sitting on a bench in the middle of the mall,

drinking a cup of coffee,

watching people pass you by;

knowing that it will soon be

all over;

you start to see the ego and pride in it all,

for the first time, you begin to understand

the futility;

and it’s just not so bad;

the curtain is pulled back, the illusion disappears,

the Holy Spirit speaks,

and you realize nothing of this world matters,

that everything is temporary,

everything is changing,

yet everything remains the same,

all the selfishness, pride, ego, emotions,

feelings, lust, fear, anger, frustrations, greed,

just self-absorbed hypocrisy,

coming and going, growing and dying,

fading with each moment of passing time;

that there is a truth much larger than life or death;

we fail because we choose to fail,

drowning in the madness,

running from the light,

blaming it on destiny,

making friends with the prince of this world,

wallowing in self-pity,

crying at the hopelessness,

preferring the darkness,

hiding from the truth;

we fail because we choose to fail;

without Jesus there is nothing,

He is the vine, we are the branches,

the beginning and the end,

the Alpha and the Omega,

the great I am,

the Truth, the Light and the Way,

through Him do all things exist,

through Him are all things possible,

no man cometh to the Father but through Him;

praise His holy name forever!

.

.

Knowledge of God

O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! For who hath known the mind of the Lord? Or who hath been his counselor? Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again? For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen.   Romans 11:33-36

wandering alone, destroyed by the moment,

overcome by the magnitude, afraid of the consequences;

eternally gone;

I have fallen short, I have been less,

I have not been all that You created

me to be;

I don’t comprehend the reasons,

I can’t explain the why,

I only know through You,

it will all work out in the end;

without suffering and pain,

there would be no relief or healing,

without sadness and sorrow,

there would be no happiness and joy,

without darkness and evil,

there would be no light and righteousness;

without You, there would be no hope;

thank you Lord,

rebuke me when I am wrong,

discipline me as a beloved son,

praise Your holy name forever,

to You belongs the glory;

to You shall I belong

forever.

.

.

Light of the World

all creation holds its breath, on this silent night of nights,

yearning for deliverance, groaning like a woman giving birth,

patiently waiting for the moment to begin,

salvation from the cries of an infant;

redemption through the sacrifice of a King;

Hope of hope, Savior of the lost,

Light of the world, what gift can be laid at Your feet?

what price can be paid to satisfy the cost?

the angels do sing Your praise,

all in heaven and on earth bow

before Your glorious throne,

the blessed Lamb of God,

the righteous Judge of judges,

the mighty King of kings,

the holy Son of God;

Hope of hope, Savior of the lost,

Light of the world, what gift can be laid at Your feet?

what price can be paid to satisfy the cost?

look down on us now,

see the ignorance of our ways,

forgive the arrogance of our hardened hearts,

heal the damage we have done;

make us more than we are;

Hope of hope, Savior of the lost,

Light of the world, what gift can be laid at Your feet?

what price can be paid to satisfy the cost?

.

.

Resist

“When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds the house swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that man is worse than the first.”   Luke 11:24-26

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.   James 4:7

once again, You sweep my house clean,

once again, the enemy waits outside,

attempting to bring destruction

worse than before;

“Do not fear, resist;”

and I know, You will always be there,

ready to protect, ready to defend,

teaching me Your truth, while

giving just enough room to grow,

like a child learning to walk,

picking me up when I stumble and fall,

holding my hand, wiping away the tears;

never leaving me alone;

Father, Creator of the universe,

praise Your holy name!

thank you for the gift of Your wondrous Spirit,

the Comforter who guides us into all truth,

teach me to shine like a thousand suns;

teach me to be a Son

of the Living God.

.

.

Hope?

“Life is a tale told by an idiot – full of sound and fury, signifying nothing” – William Shakespeare.

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.   Ecclesiastes 1:9

“See that I am He! There is no god besides me. I put to death and I bring to life, I have wounded and I will heal, and no one can deliver out of my hand.   Deuteronomy 32:39

we live, we die,

we laugh, we cry;

there is nothing new under the sun;

all the accomplishments of man,

all the clever, flowing words,

meaningless dust,

vanities and vexations,

twisting and blowing,

scattering on the shifting wind,

dark mists of evaporating vapor,

clanging gongs of raucous sound,

deep reservoirs of hopeless hope,

obstinate children full of excess

and self-glorification,

pompous celebrations of mediocrity

and drivel,

early morning shadows,

disappearing with the

noon day sun;

here today,

gone tomorrow;

they are nothing,

nothing at all;

not one can bring

life from death,

not one can escape the grave;

without You there is no meaning,

without You there is no truth,

without You there is no light;

without You there is no life.

.

.

All That Is Left

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.   John 15:13

“If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you.”   John 15:18-19

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.   1 Corinthians 13:1-13

love is not about telling someone what they want to hear,

not about being positive, or keeping your mouth shut,

not happy thoughts or living in fantasy worlds

which do not exist;

love is telling someone what they need to hear,

whether it means they will love you in return or not,

love is sometimes struggle and pain,

sometimes sorrow and tears;

sometimes torture and death;

the world does not understand love such as this,

just as it does not understand that someday,

when the flesh has withered and decayed,

when knowledge and wisdom are gone,

when hope and faith serve no purpose;

all that will be left is love.

.

.

Ready

I don’t write a lot anymore,

it’s not that I can’t,

it’s just that there isn’t

much left to say,

I have been to the dark edge,

I have seen the other side,

I have heard the lies,

I have known the truth,

I have felt the light,

I am ready for the end,

I am ready for the night;

I am ready to begin;

I have been blessed in ways

words can never describe,

there is nothing that I desire,

there is nothing that I want,

everyday is a gift,

every minute a miracle,

every breath a reprieve,

this body continues to struggle,

but it is only temporary,

a slight inconvenience,

a momentary delay,

it will fade like the evening sun,

all that will be left is love;

all that will be left is You;

You have made this possible,

You have brought me to this place

I could never find by myself,

You continue to stand by my side

when death is all I deserve,

You continue loving me when I

can’t even love myself;

You are my King,

You are my Lord,

You are my Everything.

.

.

Slaves

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through Him all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:1-5

products of our own choices,

masters of impossibilities and

empty desires,

creatures of cold-hearted witness,

slaves to life,

slaves to death,

slaves to everything,

slaves to nothing;

such is our destiny,

such is our fate;

followers of a far distant night,

lost travelers upon forgotten

highways,

eventually everything

loses its value,

everything fades,

everything fails,

everything crumbles back

into the dust from

where it came;

I want to be free,

I want to breathe

once again;

life is as temporary as

the moment,

as fragile as the

morning dew,

when it has all passed;

there will always be

You.

.

.

Suburbia

out in the fields,

the slaughterhouse seems

so far away,

dreams still live,

the future open and free,

tomorrow certain and secure,

little do they know;

the cattle truck is on its way;

the circle is closing,

and you wonder,

is this the best there is?

or more importantly;

is this all there is?

as if it ever mattered,

one way or the other,

yet still you wonder,

and you forget,

and you remember,

over and over again;

everything changes,

everything remains the same;

the days become harder,

movement nonexistent,

just a little farther,

only a little longer,

holding on with what

little there is,

living for letting go,

waiting for the last breath,

pretending it matters,

wishing it didn’t;

knowing it never will;

in central suburbia,

the waves wash quietly

upon forgotten shores,

nothing is ever what it seems,

no one is ever who they say,

looking down from sacred ground,

privileged and blessed,

safe and secure,

flags flying high,

apple pies cooling

on kitchen counters;

‘those’ people are ruining the country,

‘those’ people don’t belong here;

and all I ever wanted was You.

.

.

Only the Wind Remains

your beauty fades,

the darkness of night

does approach,

there is no truth left,

no more hope before

the dawn,

this moment of ordinary

clarity disappears,

chance encounters inside

realms of creative laughter,

another answer,

another possibility;

only the wind remains;

words flow like delicate swans,

wrapping themselves in

royal robes of comfort,

deep within the sound of

your breath,

soft and secure,

speaking unknown mysteries and

telling tales of untold valor,

staggering like drunken sailors on

maiden voyages,

weaving inside blurred lines

of forgotten innocence,

lost upon midnight dreams,

unable to grasp even the

fundamentals;

the window is closing,

the time almost here,

the silence roars without a sound,

the hour upon which it

stands grows near;

only the wind remains.

.

.

Through it All

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”   John 14:6-7

I have been on both sides of the fence,

I have been everywhere in-between;

physically,

mentally,

emotionally,

spiritually,

financially;

I have worked for hundreds of thousands of dollars,

I have worked for minimum wage,

I have tasted a life of privilege,

I have known the hopelessness of poverty;

I have witnessed first hand,

the devastation of losing everything;

I have worked at a desk,

using only my mind and fingers,

I have worked back-breaking jobs,

no one should have to work;

I have seen people at their best,

I have seen people at their worst;

I have entered dark places from which very few survive,

I have stood on the edge, as the god of this world

quietly whispered in my ear;

“take just one more step”;

I have seen demons,

dark and evil,

drive past in a car,

as I rode a bike down the road;

laughing,

mocking;

I have talked with an angel named Vena,

holding my hand as I lay in a hospital bed,

having a heart attack;

I have seen people destroyed,

by the very things from which

I was saved;

through it all, You have been there

for as long as I can remember,

quietly watching, softly calling,

patiently waiting,

through it all, You have

lifted me up when I could not

stand on my own,

saving me when no one else could,

protecting me when no one else would,

through it all, You have

given me an education no college

could provide, no amount of money

could buy, teaching me humility

and compassion,

helping me to stand,

allowing me to fall,

showing me the illusion

surrounding this world,

trapping so many,

who do not even know

they are trapped;

no one makes it out of this life

without You,

no one comes to the Father

but though You.

.

.

Greater

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.   Romans 8:37

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”   Matthew 19:26

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in  you is greater than the one who is in the world.   I John 4:4

I awake in the middle of the dark and silent night,

helpless and afraid, surrounded by the still and quiet depths,

overcome by the worries and cares,

reminded of an uncertain tomorrow,

fearful of all that lies beyond my control,

then You softly speak, filling me with Your love,

overwhelming me with Your grace,

cleansing me of sin, restoring my soul,

reminding me that I will never be alone;

that with You there is no condemnation,

no rejection;

I sometimes wonder, just where this road is leading,

and I know no matter what lies ahead,

You will see me through,

You will be by my side,

You will provide a way,

through every trial, through every test,

You are there, holding me up,

when I can no longer stand,

providing strength, when there is nothing left;

through You I am more than a conqueror,

through You all things are possible,

through You I am greater than the world.

.

.

Agendas

sometimes it becomes hard, separating friends from foes,

good intentions from bad;

truth from lies;

in a world ruled by flesh, humility is replaced by pride,

issues clouded by agendas, clarity overcome by confusion,

egotism and self-glorification,

hidden within the face of love;

You have witnessed it all;

every dark, angry thought,

every sinister, evil plot,

every treacherous betrayal,

every late night denial;

remaining silent at the accusations,

withstanding the pain and lies,

loving when there was no love in return,

giving when there was nothing left to give,

forgiving when you had every right to hate,

walking the path no one else could;

sacrificing Yourself,

for the sake of the whole world;

Lord, I have nothing worthy of You,

I am but filthy rags in Your presence,

fit only for death and destruction,

Your love goes beyond my comprehension,

Your mercy more than I could ever deserve,

help me to forgive selfish motives and hidden agendas,

help me to love those who do not deserve my love,

help me to be like You.

.

.

This One's For You Scott

had a meeting today, with all the big boys,

it made me realize, just how small

I really am;

I sat there a long time after that meeting,

just staring at the pages of an open tech manual;

I thought about a good friend I knew once,

I thought about the times we got falling down drunk together,

laughing our asses off and how I loved him like the brother I never had,

I thought about how he sat in his car, in the parking lot of the navy prototype,

in upstate New York, put a gun to his chest;

and pulled the trigger;

I thought about what he must have felt,

all the things which went through his head,

in those last few seconds;

and now I knew;

now I knew what it felt like,

to have your soul raped,

and be powerless to prevent it;

fuck all the big boys everywhere,

they got it all covered,

they always did,

but they ain’t gonna take me,

they never will,

no matter how much shit they pile on,

if you wait long enough,

even this passes,

just like everything else;

this one’s for you Scott (brother).

.

.

this too shall pass

Gibbons is the greatest there ever was,

Morrison said it better than all the rest,

Bukowski was the king;

this too shall pass;

like a river it flows,

on and on,

from here to there,

over before it ever

had a chance

to begin,

in the morning

you were gone,

never to return,

your taste still fresh,

your touch

lingering

on the wind,

your smell like

lilacs on a warm

spring day;

the last breath is breathed,

memories slowly die,

laughter gives way to silence,

the final journey awaits,

the empty darkness looms

ahead;

Gibbons is the greatest there ever was,

Morrison said it better than all the rest,

Bukowski was the king;

this too shall pass.

.

.

Dead Places

dead places,

hidden among the rain soaked fields,

call out,

like long lost friends,

searching for days gone by,

and empty roads never traveled;

grand plans, big ideas,

so much lost on the way,

in this desolate wilderness

called home;

it scares them to know,

someone sees through their masks,

their charades,

they grow uneasy,

when they see themselves

through the eyes of another,

tossing and turning,

generating huge ocean waves,

among the tranquil seas;

fools;

playing foolish games

with deadly consequences,

children lost in chaos,

and hopeless jungle forests;

dead places

know.

.

.

An End to the End

chasing down dreams, on one-way, dead-end streets,
the moments come and go, cool autumn nights wait forever,
like distant winter storms, poised to pour liquid electricity,
into endless teenage skies, back seats and pre-game rituals,
followed by post-game letdowns, fade into the oblivion
of lost moments, as life-changing, earth shattering decisions,
mean very little, inside vast kingdoms of empty space,
where nothing comes and nothing goes;

I have sunk to the depths,

I have been to the heights;

flow is the key, you can lose your momentum,

but you can never lose your flow;

invisible chains fall like leaves before the gathering storm,

there is a death of which no one knows,
somber days lie ahead, for every beginning there is an end,
for every ending there is an end;

for everything there is an end;

in life there are only so many;

so many days, so many years,

so many thoughts, so many words,
they slip through our fingers like water running to the sea,
we forget more than we can ever know;

for everything there is an end.

.

.

Never Was

out here in this wasted space,

no one hears the silence,

no one knows the loss,

alone and holding on,

waiting for imaginary rescues,

among lost and broken places,

hiding behind enemy lines,

crawling on hands and knees,

in-between burned out bunkers,

full of dry, empty words;

never quite reaching the mark;

old debts return, tears rain down like

sweet summer sweat,

holding on until there is nothing left;

without hope,

without chance;

beautiful dreams flow like a river,

on their way to imaginary seas,

dancing like butterflies on the morning wind,

echoing sounds of magic,

within the caverns of mindless souls;

one more time, traveling down this

long and lonesome road,

searching for a home inside lost and empty ruins,

running from fantasies that never were,

living within upside down dreams

which come and go;

over before it began;

my eyes have seen what others have not,

my heart has known that which no heart should;

sometimes the greatest love,

is that which never was.

.

.

Life

in the morning, before the doubt,

before the poison, anything is possible,

the world is bright and new,

fresh and alive, but then like the morning,

it is gone, as reality sets in;

I wait outside her domain,

like a dog in heat,

I listen to her voice

pounding within,

like ocean waves

on a dark angry night,

she holds me in arms

of shifting winds,

without shape or form;

life is full of so much wasted time,

wide open spaces and moments

in between the only ones that count,

long drawn out hours of insufferable boredom,

highlighted by seconds of indescribable pleasure;

life is a never ending orgasm,

working and struggling, building and rising,

working for just one short burst,

one quick release;

I want a place to hide,

a shelter from the storm,

safety in the wilderness,

a home within the night;.

what words can be said for this?

what salvation, what mercy,

what redemption?

.

.

Down on the Rabbit Farm

the American dream is dying,

like some ancient half-baked myth,

taking one last breath,

it lies there waiting for the end,

still we continue on,

traveling down broken, empty, highways,

on the way to bigger pastures,

afraid of the consequences,

but never looking back;

not even once;

on the road to Wyoming,

with the fiery rabbit princess,

we ran into a band of hairy, drunk, Greek sailors;

how could she resist?

leaving me there, high and dry,

somewhere in Iowa,

with visions of wide open spaces,

and endless rabbit farms dancing in my head;

still it lives on;

“the fever burns bright,

on this stagnate moonless night,

providing the worlds only light,

in a land of limited breathless sight;”

“who is it for?”

she screams aloud,

standing naked and cold,

shivering uncontrollably in the morning mist,

surrounded by mighty armies dressed in black;

but not a sound echoes back.

.

.

No Other

I am the LORD, and there is no other; apart from me there is no God. I will strengthen you, though you have not acknowledged me, so that from the rising of the sun to the place of its setting people may know there is none besides me. I am the LORD, and there is no other. I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the LORD, do all these things.   Isaiah 45:5-7

For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power.   I Corinthians 4:20

the empty highway looms ahead,

stretching on forever, no end in sight,

destinations unknown, distant and unexplored,

staring mindlessly ahead, missing the thrill of the open road,

missing the isolation of the high mountain trails,

missing the taste of a young girl’s lips,

the breathless excitement in her eyes,

the feel of her quivering anticipation;

understanding things you no longer are;

it does not matter, the past is gone,

the only truth left, shining brightly ahead,

the small, still voice, speaking deeply within,

opening your eyes, revealing things

you could never have imagined,

incomprehensible things, things of beauty, things of truth,

knowledge for which words have no expression,

leaving you humbled and in awe;

God is power,

forming the light, creating darkness,

bringing prosperity, allowing disaster,

not bold, foolish talk, not man-made traditions,

not a better way of living, not a philosophy,

far beyond anything our limited minds can comprehend,

healing the sick, giving sight to the blind,

raising the dead to life;

God is power.

.

.

Tolstoy

I knew a girl once,

her name was Holly,

we were lovers,

I met her in Florida,

she lived in Pennsylvania,

she used to come to New York

and Connecticut to visit me

when I was in the navy,

she was insatiable,

we once made love six

times in a row,

it was a personal best,

she married a trucker

she met on the road,

while driving from Connecticut

back to Pennsylvania,

I don’t know what became

of her after that;

she made me happy;

Tolstoy was human too,

despite great efforts to

prove otherwise,

he lived,

he loved,

he laughed,

he disappointed,

he failed,

he tried to grasp concepts

and ideas,

beyond human reason

and understanding,

but he was human

after all,

we all are,

on our own;

we can be nothing more;

there are things greater

than ourselves,

but only a few ever find them,

things greater than living or dying,

eating and drinking,

war or peace,

making love to beautiful young girls;

the Tolstoians had it all wrong,

just as the Bolsheviks,

the Luddites,

the Communists,

the Catholics,

the Republicans,

the Democrats,

and a thousand other

man-made institutions,

organizations and religions,

it is much deeper,

far more profound,

than anything our simple

human minds

can comprehend;

Tolstoy understood this

better than anyone;

Holly,

if you’re listening,

thanks for the memories.

.

.

Ours to Choose

“Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat down on them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Revelation 7:16-17

We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53:6

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12

I have found a home here,

for good or for bad,

for better or for worse,

it may not be much,

but it is mine;

I sit on my porch,

I feel the warm sun

on my face,

I look at the mountains,

I listen to the crows;

this is my home now;

it’s all there is,

it’s all I need,

it’s all there ever

will be;

I do not know how

much longer it will last,

it is beyond my control,

it is out of my hands,

but I will rest here,

for as long as I can;

I am tired of who is right,

who is wrong,

choosing sides,

blaming one,

justifying another;

we are all wrong,

we are all to blame;

you,

me,

them,

‘those people;’

we are all liars,

murderers,

thieves,

cheats,

hypocrites;

it is in our blood,

it is our dna,

it is who we are,

it is what we will be;

we are all

something less;

there is no wrong side,

no right side,

there is only self-righteousness

and arrogance,

or mercy and grace,

our will,

or God’s will;

it is for us to choose;

now there is weeping,

now there is anger,

now there is fear,

but soon enough it will be

no more,

the shadows will fade,

the misery will no longer exist,

the sadness will turn to joy

the darkness into light,

the tears will all be

wiped away;

we will be home at last.

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A Cult of the Ordinary

the dark night does approach, silence fills the unending void,

there are consequences for careless words spoken in haste,

there are prices to be paid, for miscommunications and mistaken identities,

we have crossed unknown lines and barriers, without any thought for tomorrow,

settling for pennies on the dollar, creating monuments of our own misgivings,

putting eternal wheels in motion which cannot be undone,

winning victories, but in the end losing the war,

the last breath waits feverishly,

on the wings of majestic crows,

black and sleek, seeking refuge among

the lost and forsaken rubble which

congregates just outside these prison walls,

waiting for no one, seeking nothing;

nothing at all;

they never see past the veil,

this charade, this hideously pathetic impression,

for most it is business as usual,

part of the routine;

a cult of the ordinary.

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