I listen to notes,

take me on a certain journey,

could be jazz,

perhaps the Moody Blues,

another day with B.B. King.

I like to imagine being in the sailboat that appears,

when in the throes of Enya’s words.

I wonder sometimes where to go,

then find a melody, a certain ambience,

to match the cadence of my mood today.

I find I am lost in curiosity,

when just the flutes appear to soften the blow

of my mind’s hard fought surrender to reality.

Inside the fantasy,

of certain rhythm, perhaps just a nostalgic memory,

I’m bound to finish the exercise of definition.

That moment,

that circle in time,

brings me back to where I had begun

another time before I recalled,

this place I am today.

With music,


I suspend my



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Deep Inside a Fathom Awaits

How often to choose, to travel inside,

When do the yearnings suggest we comply

There always awaits that worry to slide

Where in moment this world becomes why.


Last night, the winds that toss us aside

So present whistled across the night sky,

A pause of freedom in season with pride

Created sweet reflection in sole eye


Bursts of memory took a solemn ride

While clouds of despair presented the nigh

We cast our shadows without wishful tide

Might sweep love’s desire aside like a lie


Please, provide an island’s quiet release

That hidden fear’s torment evolve my peace.