A Prayer for the Living

Pray that your living be thus:

A journey fulfilled, not forgotten,

a place for the touching of souls, not Mammon,

to freely forgive, and bear no malice,

a mind at peace, never roiling in anger -

and room to grow, not retreat or wander,

with no pangs of envy for the birds as they fly,

but to drink in the indigo boom of the waves

as they c...

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This rumination came from growing awareness of my mortality which, in turn, is generated and measured by the expanding list of things once given or assumed that, alas, are no longer possible.

The Mirror

How shall I talk to you, my friend?

How should I regard you

(and will I care)

as you grow ever older before my gaze

while I stay young?

Who are you? Dare I look on yo...

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The Glowering Mists of Autumn

As I travel life's journey I'm often-times struck

By a vision both novel and possibly true; that serenity

In a dangerous world without luck,

Is impossible; but is there a temporal divinity?

Perhaps the root causes of wonder and joy

Really are in the sky, or on Dante's fine peak,

Or my fireside, where the dance won't annoy

In the compa...

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This is a commentary on living, when the living is hard.

Invisible Rain

Dawn has come to smother the light

in my house.

As I douse the candle's flicker

its feeble flame shines at the window,

lifting the road beyond

into patterned pathways, glinting

in the early bright;

the soft rain of midnight's darkling succour

is almost gone.

It will return tomorrow, u...

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