The sun is orange
Rising up confidently
A sherbert globe ablaze
Amplified by the
Delicate blanket of
Murkey breath hovering over
A sleepy horizon

A Baker's Dozen

When the sun sets
And the evening rises
Forget me not

I may be gone
But don't forget
The moments that defined us

When the days fade
And the end's on the horizon
I'll forget you not

Would who you were 

As a dreamer, a wide eyed wonderer

A child with aspirations aplenty

Feel satisfaction

In who you have become?

If so

Smile wide 

And savor

The feeling of 

True fulfillment

But if like me 

Your former self

Would at times be let down

By your tendencies 

And inadequacies

It's time to look back

And take inventory

Of the fiber that weaves

Together your heart

For its the one thing

That time cannot contaminate

If ever I lose sight again
Of who it is I am
I hope to remember
That a simple glimpse
Of me when I was young
Is the only reflection
I'll ever need

Which Way?

I find that my purpose and worth seem to be so very intertwined with what I am allowed to contribute to. Rarely does it occur to me that perhaps giving is not the only equalizer in my life. Could it be that the practice of my art is simply an escape from that which otherwise consumes my fears? Will there ever again be a balance of the two- freedom and duty? For one will destroy me from within, the decay of doubt dissolving me slowly. Yet the other will strip me of moments and life, igniting a desire to be and do and always reminding me that there will always be more than I can accomplish.

So which will it be, or will it be neither? How fickle is the heart when it has the luxury of options from which to choose. Will I be still and face the darkness, hoping to come out a refined version of myself on the other end? Or will I flee, chasing the whimsy of the wind that blows free and unrooted?

I must choose one, I fear. For the circle of life has followed me thrice and here still I stand, planted firmly in uncertainty. In the morn I will face my conundrum anew, seeing with eyes what beauty is held here. What a glorious problem to hold one in each hand, and while my eyes behold them, my heart will pray.

When all that I am feels so very
Small
And feeble
When my mind is heavy
As your heart
When all that I know
Crumbles
To dust
Before me
Still, you are there

All I want to is create
To purge
To share

Yet now is not the time
This is a moment
For silence to reign
For pain to swell
For tears to fall

There are no answers
No take backs
No reviving what has been lost
Or who

But we are here
And we are left
With a task
To live
To love
To rise
For those who have fallen

This is where we begin
It's where we are born
Where we question
Where we seek
Where we pursue solutions

This is square one
We begin at the end
And rewrite the next step
Because there has to be one
It hasn't yet been taken