Break

I have to hope
That when I finally break,
It will be as an egg.
New life will emerge,
and be satisfied.

Every Winter is a Time Machine

And I ran out into the field,
some field I found on my way to grief.
I stood on the edge of that field,
the woods at my back,
and the cold air blew snowflakes in circles around the numb
head on my shoulders.

And I threw off my winter clothes;
my pants and my coat.
I pulled the shirt off my back and
stood in the cold,
stood in nothing but long johns, and boots.

I spread my arms wide,
not in strength like the eagle.
Not in peace like the dove-
but in utter surrender, every bond broken
 between my heart and humanity,
and the strings of my little heart
wavered and fluttered in the frigid wind.

I hoped that there was no repair,
but I knew I was lying, my hope
was not thus.

A trust was that day broken.
An innocence was stolen.

All loyalty was naked, shown
for what it really was-misguided,
selfish, empty, then self-less songs.
A dirge was danced by broken pawns,
and lawns were drenched in blood.
A flood of tears washed alters bronze,
and throngs of spirits crushed
beneath the weight of wasted years
appeared to mourn the loss of life,
or what we thought life was,
and when I found my fingertips
and core had froze
I fell, and became like them.

Worth The Weight.

But
To Him
Who knew the reward
The reward for His pain,
To him the reward
Was worth the weight
Of His pain.

Whisper

And if I have to ask
"How much longer will it last?"
And if you doth reply
"What is future once was past"

And if I have to know
"Are their places I must go?"
And if you testify
"For a task that I will show"

And even if I scream
"Will it be the end of me?"
And is just another word
"And I will help you see"

And if I came to you to say
"I give it all away today"
Then you will take me in your hand
And give it back
And grains of sand
Will be the faithful mark
Of truth
And I will go to you to stay.

Walls

Look beyond these walls.
Are they so high?
Are you hemmed in on every side?

Have these walls served their purpose yet?
Look how high!
You could not climb over if you tried;
no matter how badly you wanted to-
It is no use, you are stuck inside.

But there is a lesson here.

Freedom and slavery kiss.
Each fears the other,
Because we fear what we do not understand.
When a leaf is freed, it dies.
When a seed dies, it is born.
And so it would seem that in this life,
All things go on
And go through
And go on again
Inside these high walls.

But one day the gate will be opened.
We will not find freedom.
We will become it.

The Small Things.

I tried to write a poem, but the fact of the matter is, sometimes it is better to say something succinctly. The fact is, I want the big things in life, but the big things don't deliver. Trying to get the big things are like trying to box a bear. Take that analogy as far as you want to. But the small things are the most valuable. The smallest things are the greatest treasures, because what is small is what is unseen, and what is unseen is eternal. So in the end, when all the big is gone, the smallest will be the biggest after all, and they will have been given as a blessing, and not as the result of a fruitless fight.

A Perfect Rain.

I released him-
an action which may have been loathsome
at a separate time.
For I found him, my prize
and I would not have ever surrendered,
were it not for the soft-spoken
rain in the darkness
gently washing the trees huddled
across the midnight landscape.

And this perfect rain,
in the dark of the night spoke straight
to my heart
with words incomprehensible
from a tongue, but comprehensible
from the heart of the Heavens to mine,
and the words of the perfect rain,
by subtle invocation,
demanded action and
by a simple act of compassion,
I released him.