Where Is My Window

When looking for a foothold,

the chance of a bargain certainly eats away

integrity as might be imagined.


While walking one evening,

it did suddenly dawn on me, in a rise

of agony, how disturbing is loss.


Perhaps one day when right

an adage so often felt to emote

would be my saving Grace.


I told a friend just the other day,

he agreed with me and the two of us

laughed until we figured out why.


If time is truly a capsule,

I wonder about perhaps hatching

new ideas to squander the old.


I once knew where the open door

would wait for my forever determined

outlook upon open windows.


To feel the necessary energy

capable of creative opportunity,

would be that life is true.


The Hypocrisy of Faith

Steeped in idol trepidation,

an iconic stature,

a reasonably moral conclusion,


a stark reminder

is when we choose to know our side.


Which side, whose side,

why should we decide

what favor we rely upon to gather strength,

when choices made,

become the standard bearer,

the party favorite.


Words bandied about,

tribalism, loyalists, mongering,


A certain repudiation

turns into a bizarre creationist

fable toward standing on firm ground.


Yet the earth underneath my feet

feels unstable, feels temporary,

like a bandaid worn in critical battle,

we are the masses,

we do decide,

whether we choose to believe or we do not.


I am the one with faith,

the I have to readily acknowledge,

I haven’t a clue in what direction,

I choose,

will have any great matter,

when in faith I do choose to lose.