“Together, they would watch everything that was so carefully planned collapse, and they would smile at the beauty of destruction.” ― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
Inspired by my dream the night before
Pulling back into watery heaps, the plan is set
Leaving the crowds gathering in a storm of wonder
The coast changes and that for eternity
The waves swell and crash, hands of the potter

Brightness from the sky enlightens the new land
Flames peeling off like leaves from autumn trees
Eternity waits for another world to collide,
A ricochet leaving its destruction
the fearful people hold their mouths and wait


“Well, any love makes us vulnerable. Whatever we love will give the gift of pain somewhere along the road. But who would live sealed in spiritual cellophane just to keep from ever being hurt? There are a few people like that. I’m sorry for them. I think they are as good as dead.” ― Gladys Taber, Harvest at Stillmeadow  


 Thinking she with baited breath, breathed the bearing winds
and with heated highs holding hands of holy fortune
But I was wrong

Believing the best of both between beaten breaking waves
and with hope helping a healing of heavy history
But I was wrong

Being wrong is easy, but the scorching blisters that remain from the heat of desire bring the pain of dying belief. Having lifted her up with my service and hope, giving all of my time and energy to see a buck shot doe come to life, who would know that she would attack me? A desperate soul uses no discretion in the flailing attempts at survival. Once on solid ground she looked back and saw me, floating on an ocean created by my sweat and tears, upside down, blue and bloated with discouraged heartache. In my resurrected state I can see her, and still I believe in her, being taught that my sacrifice means nothing in the comeback of the starlet. I only see her from a distance, and beholding her as the stars, hope that I never see her come streaking out of the night sky, burning through the atmosphere of her wantonness, and crashing into a broken blaze of kindling people.

Be it religion or love, in the end, who will use you up?

"Why?" – Questions are answered tomorrow

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language.”



When the storm rages on the oceans way, 

“Why?” is not a question for the gales stay.

When the earth trembles and shakes us deep, 
“Why?” is not a question we should keep.

When the starry skies shed their bright lights, 
“Why?” is not a question for that dark night.

Reap the strong currents of dire sorrow,
 “Why?” is answered only by tomorrow…