Angels Among Us

 Underneath the tree, 

 Lying in her pain, 

 Underneath a tree, 

 Beaten close to death. 

 Wounded in her heart, 

 Scars upon her soul, 

 Unable to stand, 

 Alone and bereft. 

 Together we did talk, 

 A chance meeting of souls, 

 Together we did walk, 

 With wheelchair in hand, 

 She just could not make it, 

 To the hospital so far, 

 Alone and with no strength, 

 She just would not make it.

 Can you see the  girl playing?
 She is laughing with her friend,
 The little girl is playing,
 She does not see this before her,
 None could see this coming,
 No one would want it,
 Lying helpless beneath a tree,
 It would send the bravest running.

 She is still a human being,
 Beneath the dirt and filth,
 She is still a human being,
 Someone's child and a woman,
 But pray for an angel to come,
 God always sends somebody,
 Yet there is no one on the street,
 Perhaps you are the angel to come.
 Perhaps she is an angel in disguise?
 Scripture states that this happens,
 Would you miss the chance to reach out?
 Would you miss a chance to touch God?

The Grind

 Eating to work, 

 Working to eat, 

 The same thing done, 

 The same day run,

 Only the date changes,

 In mockery of time. 

 The reason escapes, 

 The power of reason, 

 Finding an end to the means, 

 In the means to an end,

Seldom  catching one's breath, 

 In wondering why.

 The picture is painted, 

Upon the canvas, 

 Yet is the canvas contemplated, 

 By the painters hand? 

 Without the canvas, 

 Is there an image? 

 The fibers are grown, 

 In fields  flowing, 

 Rising from rain, 

 Harvested from pain, 

 Spun together, 

 To weave the fabric. 

 The paints are made, 

 From things of the earth, 

 Moistened and mixed, 

 Bottled and stored, 

 Yet without which, 

 No painting can form. 

 It is only through pain, 

 It is only through work, 

 That the backdrop is made, 

 Where magic can come, 

 Where the heart may express, 

 And miracles may run. 

 And such is our lives, 

 Within the daily grind, 

 For without this canvas, 

 For which we work, 

 No miracles could come, 

 From our acts of love. 

 Just like in the garden, 

 With patience and toil, 

 With sweat and heartbreak, 

 Life's miracle strikes, 

 New shoots do appear, 

 Then the blossoms do come. 

  What seems without meaning, 

 Supports the meaning of life, 

 Producing the moments, 

 Which are never forgotten, 

 Giving chance for the miracles, 

 That change now and forever. 

The Quiet Before The Storm

 The dark clouds approached, 

 Like a freight train coming, 

 Riding a cold wind,

 Taking away the light, 

 Riding a cold wind,

 Taking away the sound. 

 The birds have stopped singing, 

 As they feel the monster, 

 Hiding behind the hills, 

 They feel it coming, 

 Hiding behind the hills, 

 They know it is there. 

 Rearing its head with a flash, 

 Lightning announces its presence, 

 Flooding the land with vengeance, 

 The monster releases its rage, 

 Flooding the land with vengeance, 

 As thunder embraces the heart. 

 The storms will come, 

 Taking away our strength, 

 Yet God brings us through them, 

 While building up our souls, 

 Yet God brings us through them, 

 Strengthening our hearts. 

 After the storm has passed, 

 We return to open the window, 

 To see the light stream through the clouds, 

 Bathing the land in color, 

 To see the lifestream through the clouds, 

 Rearranging beauty within the song.

 It is God who brings the storms, 

 Bringing energy back into life, 

 The rains come down upon us, 

 And wash away our tears,

 The rains come down upon us, 

 So we may come into full bloom. 

Moments in Time

  Moments  have beginnings, 

 But they do not have endings, 

 For we return to them, 

 Through heart's doorway,

 Where our souls walk through that garden, 

 Over and over again. 

 We draw from these moments, 

 Composing our own futures, 

 Bringing light from other souls, 

 We have encountered in the past, 

 To people they have not met, 

 Along our present paths.

 Moments are a currency,

 With value beyond measure, 

 The value of  eternity, 

 Counted out in pocket change, 

 Yet to spare someone a nickel, 

 Is value beyond measure. 

 Life is a mosaic, 

 A great tapestry of souls, 

 Endless image of moving magic, 

 For art is of free will, 

 To choose colors of joy or pain, 

 And then lift the brush to others. 

 For who can buy a moment, 

 Or add one second to a day? 

 For the chances here on Earth,

 Will not come again, 

 Yet as opportunities to love, 

 They compose the magic of forever. 

 Time is a reflection, 

 Of many sparks of life, 

 In this continuum of change, 

 With our joy we rearrange, 

 Through love's indomitable power, 

 Life's meaning is fulfilled.