Three Presents Pulled from a Mixed Bag
Salvation sometimes is
A mixture of blessings.
When holding a seed to the light
I find myself counting into the future,
One, two, three, perception expands
Behold a tree, drinking deep in desert sands.
That man is born into sins
And borne out to the self
Is a question beyond answer.
He pools himself
In shattered shadows
And rolls the ground
Beneath his tread.
Till yesterday is smooth and narrow
And tomorrow is a rocky bed.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Fatherhood
I am carrying the torch you Handed me Not handed. Placed Carefully This is sacred space. Was the carrying so heavy for you as well? Were yo...
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It must have been love That sort of thing Can't be mistaken For a lesser set of feelings It has a special hat And makes you welcome at p...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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I’m tired I’m tired of my heart giving out Whenever it gives in That things being the same Never makes a difference Of looking forwards to s...
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