Some Are Chosen

While walking through a mine field, I stamped my feet

knowing only would be my confidence address defeat

 

For it is a wonder sometime to know the reason why

some we love are left to die, when afterward we cry.

 

It seems so clear that some are chosen to live this way

while yet we stand and recognize oh just another day.

 

I walked one night along the planks of an icy bridge

there below no bottom to see only feet on a ridge.

 

The people sauntered by, seemingly so unaware

when I awoke and found my tears, again I swear.

 

There is always a question of just why and whom

so magnificent in aura we might reach the womb

 

A sedentary state it seems will be only our cause

to find the truth, to know reality beyond our Oz.

 

I walked alone one night along some icy concrete

out of mind, out of sight, my life was not complete.\

 

We wonder those, mourn their woes, yet the we

becomes ourselves inside this love, this factory.

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Wondering Why We Do

I fight this battle,

you see,

it is a visual reality

the need for me

to recognize

my own vulnerability

is ok, it’s alright, it is part of the

game

we all play,

we wake to a different horizon

every morning,

we sleep to a different melody

at night,

or perhaps during the day,

wherever it is we decide

we might wish to land

and resurface again,

when everyone we see

decides upon the rules of

the game.

A Weekend Gone

It isn’t that there is anything wrong,

simply, the realization of a weekend gone,

the days ahead all toil to be sure

inside this mechanical dream we assure.

 

While yesterday seemed quite away

when suddenly here we are today to stay,

oh it isn’t that the wrongs are right

more the reality of our time in spite.

 

I wanted to remember you this time

with a bit of a calculated rhyme

yet the days well hours turned to nigh

it was in a sudden fit of overwhelming cry.

 

A weekend gone, one might want a redo

yet it is important to understand we do

have opportunity always just ahead

to recreate, to reaffirm, to be virtue lead.

 

A weekend gone, and summertime as well

we have tapped into another state of tell

when suddenly our lives have much matter

for the presence of another is a next ladder.

 

We walk, we talk, we have similar paths ahead

yet inside a dream we still might be easily lead.

Choosing the Listener

I wonder if it is so easy to recognize

the sweet recall of one time being heard,

when it could be felt,

when word might resonate,

walking along a creek,

listening, the water gurgling forward,

a purpose, a design, an always,

and me,

the quiet remedy to a vacant stare

watching, wondering, hoping,

waiting really

for some reason to pop out of the water

look me in the eye,

suggest the body of life

is the constant flow,

that no matter how far we trail our lives

there is always going to be a need

to continue seeking reason

we stay afloat,

watch the channels change,

the soil erupt from a pressure beyond

themselves,

only a part of the whole.

Will We Listen

He

would suggest we

love one another

a smile,

a gracious host

he always gave you the last peace,

the first chance to realize,

a quiet reminder of how a man

could be gracious

at any

cost

 

His cost

our decision

a lot of indecision

inside the spectrum

of constant scrutiny

versus

a positive outcome,

inside the machine,

he would use

different tools

to provide allowance

a natural course of love,

perhaps our

loss.

 

So now today,

we remember him

his legacy

as brief a time

as God gave our

heart and soul

to understand

the magic

of his quiet

direction,

still a strong suitor

he assured us all

he came to

heal.

 

His legacy of love

sweet positivity.