Thinking the Essence of Man

Who are we

he said

over a beer with a friend,

troubled by the circumstance

of a gender bending


in his mind,


in another’s

an opportunity

perhaps to find Grace

between man and woman,

to know some

spiritual guidance

will take our lives much further

then simple rejection.


Oh, but simple is not truth,

this analogy

seems a convenient

escape beyond our

self-described realism.


Man is not alone,

in a sweet testament

could if found

embark upon a journey

perhaps a sojourn

of forgiveness

to know only that


might, may, could, will be

a savior

in the fault

of human pride

the human condition

as it plays out


On Buying, Sharing, Wondering Love

Oh it is the season now,

and our lives,

torn up, shredded, a certain fodder in the air,

for Man might feel abused,

when in reality,

he ought felt this way,

decades ago,

a century perhaps,

so those followers

could stand a chance.


There’s no condemnation

could be strong enough to withstand

the scrutiny of the individual mind.

Oh to recognize the theoretical expanse

of the human condition

taken for chance.


If when a cry could send the body reeling,

a ledge perhaps, a modern day semi,

a conductor noticing in a sudden glance,

that life as easily as born,

would become just

an imaginative notion we enhance.

Oh then might the world better understand,

the turmoil in losing our concept on love,

is far greater than the answers we seek,

without the cherished ideal of support of understanding

of forgiveness when fear is our only safeguard.


For it is the toys of our world,

we focus upon today,

the frivolous in nature,

the common good toward overcoming the would

of this season

when buying her love is far greater

than actually knowing her sweet elegance.


There is lost in the masses of the local bistro,

the purpose in mind,

cell phones inclined,

to keep searching, keep your eyes open,

keep your conscience …


we are all in lock-step,

trying to own the sensitive lift,

a spiritual sojourn,

the perfect gift.

Finding Spiritual Balance

A Good Match


In trying to understand the world,

we seem only to find balance,

upon a vast field of simple grain,

the sort indistinguishable yet soft

enough to hold our mind, our body,

our greatest fear and smallest burden.


Always a fascination has existed

with the design of our lives together,

an ability to negotiate, process a life,

or find fortune in the memory beyond

who we were today when yesterday

we began a similar journey alone.


A circle exists we speak of in unison,

sometimes disparity reminds the foil

to hearken back to another energy

quite similar yet different again,

we respond accordingly to a symbolic

moment, the sort we might write about.


Well before the eternal design of our lives

might truly be the answer in knowing Eyes.

I Did

In that moment,

when truth began to tease

the reality of fantasy,

did the world continue with

lovely effort – the sort of delight

that gives breeze to sated doldrum.


Simple to see,

we might suggest one wintry evening,

we knew why the cold snap,

icy chills upon naked cheeks,

did indicate a living human being,

rather our own distracted self.


While the light of night will fade,

the oddity of the earlier day,

such energy, turns to decay,

when a resonant fire burns,

the sort needs identity,

rather instead than approval.


Whisper sweet the winds of autumn,

we will endure another shot of old.

Distance Learning

I went away for awhile,

at least,

left pages and pages of words behind,

walked back into the real world,

that place when in the present,

often leaves me,

silly I suppose,

afraid of my many shadows.

I found I missed my shelter,

feeling exposed,

subject to an enlightenment far more real,

than perhaps certain words splayed on paper.

I discovered I would look more intently,

at a lush forest,

the crack in asphalt in a road,

perhaps broken glass swept into the corner,

with each visual,

knowing what I might be thinking,

had little bearing upon all that exists around me.

I took a journey recently,

through hills and waterways,

where nature’s beauty enhanced our days,

I realized I will never be alone.

Having traveled some distance helped

offer a newer perspective on responsibility.

I’m just left curious if that will hold.

Whilst We Age


We did make sacrifice to hold on to

what we believe, in long winded trials.

yet when the music is our serenade

we listen with each note as like in love

our breath has gasp to recall our new

morning ahead, good nigh to our fails

we can believe there is new progress made

allure our gentle spirits, the wings of a dove

I go places I cannot even later recall

that ask of me for little need in return

yet I believe in my own sweet legacy

the arms of measured worth prevent my fall.

I will forever whisper quiet yearn

To know life’s work no longer travesty.


*picture found on Etsy

Don’t Try Again

I decided it might be pointless,

though I’d been told that so many times

before while always refusing.

I just kept searching for that moment,

when tears would just come,

nothing forced, only real.

Then came the pause,

when we think about is it really the cry,

or instead are we wondering just why,

there seems to be a need to cleanse our soul.

That’s what it is I believe,

whenever I get close to understanding

just how happiness floats around my mind,

well, it often seems it is then that I

do falter again, and ask for more.

See as I write these words tonight,

I suppose you might think they’re about you,

and one time they were, a long time ago,

yet, damned if I couldn’t have known then

how simple my freedoms would be now.

I’m listening to Judy Collins,

she’s singing Amazing Grace,

and I haven’t any reason why,

but I will cry. I will want to cry.