Those that speak, believe, feel
Those that cry, question, deal
Those that travel deep inside a fear
might discover there’s nothing there.
I once knew a friend,
a true compadre
she would tell me when
I was having an odd day.
Last year I became resolute
I learned how to play the flute
This seems simple and trivial
much less fake and convivial.
When I realized how far gone
my ability to trust anyone
had become in an October day,
I wondered why, I’d felt that way.
I came to know there was this
quiet reality we all seem to dismiss.
That is, when life delivers a blow,
we must quickly pack up and go.
Seldom will we find satisfaction
in our own mind’s application
of insecurity and hopes decidedly
drawn upon a candid variety
of leaps and bounds
fresh new sounds
the quiet moonlight’s mist,
now so easily dismissed.
In reality we are people who love
nothing else may be placed above.