23 Jul 2005
The Rain
The rain keeps falling.
I can hear nature calling.
The wind through the trees is blowing.
Steam off the mountains is rising.
I want to go out running.
In it reveling and playing.
I cannot bring myself to go out.
I sigh and look back to my bed tired.
At the glass of my window I am staring.
Trying to push thru the pain I am suffering.
To be able to do what others do I am wishing.
The thoughts through my mind are realing.
My body is alive with what I am feeling.
To do or not to do is the question?
I look within myself for some sort of answer.
My mind only gives me doubt and frustration.
My heart gives me love and courage.
My soul is full of longing and searching.
I take a deep breath from my introspection.
Again, I realise no simple answers are forthcoming.
Yet the rain keeps on falling.
Nature keeps on calling.
Life keeps on going.
The wind keeps on blowing.
I will keep on striving.
The Present
I find myself sitting
watching the lightning glimmer.
I hear the call of thunder
and marvel at it all.
Who am I but one small person
in this great big Wheel?
How am I to make a change
to make the world think and feel?
All I can do is stand proudly
and hold my head up high.
To share my words and thoughts,
with those that happen by.
So if you find yourself reading my words,
please remember this.
Honor what you have been given.
It is a blessed Gift.
Just imagine how this came!
I was just watching the lightning glimmer.
I heard that thunder call.
A small, simple present came from marveling at it all.
The Gray Lady
16 May 2005
A visage forms from mystic memory and fog.
A flowery, feminine scent fills the air.
Who knows this spirit is here?
Who knows why she lingers there?
You spy her whispy form as she floats by.
A great sadness filling your soul.
You second guess yourself and blink your eyes.
What? Wait. Where did she go?
Your mind wonders who she is?
An urge to find out more.
Who is this spirit that is here?
Why does she linger there?
A deep dread creeps upon you.
As you spy her once more.
Her poor heart broken once and final.
Now she dwells restless eternal.
A strained sob escapes your breast.
Her face seems to look upon you.
A desperate pain is felt.
Your emotions, not your own, into despair melt
Overwhelmed, you run away.
To find that day is dawning.
Was what you saw real?
your imagination running?
You know your home is not your own.
It is she who still lives here.
Sharing your dwelling with this lonely ghost.
Do not give into your fear.
You wait, her visage forming in the fog.
That flowery scent fills the air.
You know the spirit has come again.
You know why she lingers here.
A sad, knowing smile upon your face.
She drifts about you to and fro.
She seeks happiness again.
To tell her story and go.
You take your pen to paper.
Her story you will write.
Now her memory no longer fades.
She will be free this night.
Her visage no longer forms in the fog.
That flowery scent filling air.
The spirit not coming again.
She no longer lingers there.
