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. 

Always

The music I hear is timeless, 

 As is your love, 

 Sitting in a café this morning, 

 It is 1943 to my ears, 

 Yet my heart knows no years, 

 Though my eyes say you are far, 

 And the date is really today, 

 You are close with me forever, 

 Always. 

 The sun rose as before, 

 As it always seems to do, 

 To the birds a day like others, 

 To me it is fresh and new, 

 Because I always have you, 

 There is never an end to joy,

 Hardship is only an illusion, 

 For love is all that is real, 

 Always. 

 The leaders will always follow, 

 The paths set for them before, 

 The papers play there lonely games, 

 Yet he who follows his heart, 

 Will never have strength depart, 

 The chaos may rule the day, 

 Peace will rule over his soul, 

 Flowing from the heart of God, 

 Always. 

 I dance with you through time, 

 The illusion bringing order to space, 

 That we may comprehends our lives, 

 Though time has no beginning or end, 

 And love through all transcends, 

 As this song of life binds souls,

 With meaning no words can describe, 

 Though I dance it with you night and day, 

 Always. 

Trying Not to Write

 I succeeded,

 I did not write a thing! 

 And I always write something, 

 On the walk, 

 Or in the café, 

 For in life, 

 There is too much to share, 

 Should I stop, 

 Or do I even dare? 

 It keeps on unfolding, 

 This thing we call life, 

 Through times of joy, 

 Even in trial or strife,

 For to stop is a sin, 

 And a new day begins, 

 There is more to do and say, 

 Even in the same places, 

 Even with the same faces, 

 For whom in time and space, 

 Has ever defined life? 

 I keep trying, 

 And I keep writing, 

 Even in this effort not to write, 

 And people keep living, 

 And keep giving, 

 Experiencing, 

 Laughing, 

 Crying, 

 Hurting, 

 And loving, 

 In the day and in the night, 

 And so this is my effort, 

 Trying not to write. 

Sacrifice

 Time given, 

 An action done, 

 Words spoken, 

 A battle won,

 With love required, 

 There is a cost, 

 To make a change, 

 From battles lost, 

 Results not seen, 

 Still may come, 

 For things go forth, 

 From where they come, 

 And acts of love, 

 Have the best start, 

 For where they come, 

 Is from the heart, 

 And other lives, 

They often change,

 For energy, 

 Will rearrange, 

 And change of course, 

 Others will voice, 

  Changing perspective, 

 Is freedom of choice, 

 Though from a cost, 

 Comes all things nice, 

 They would not be,

 Without sacrifice. 

Vision

 We live what we know, 

 We know what we live. 

 We show what we are, 

 We are what we give. 

 Our words are a power, 

 The power to make free. 

 Unleashing what it is, 

 And all it can be. 

 For faith is a river, 

 To see what may seem.

 Making dreams into reality, 

 For all once was dreamed. 

 The land of make-believe, 

 Is of concrete and steel. 

 All reality is of heart, 

 For the heart is what's real. 

 If the soul does have wings, 

 Then this is what they are. 

 Keeping us in flight, 

 And carrying us far. 

 We lineup in procession, 

 To where we don't know. 

 We begin every morning, 

 And all day we just go. 

 In losing the meaning, 

 Of why we have begun, 

 We have lost our true joy, 

 We have forgotten about fun. 

 Not just a joke, 

 To make the day light, 

 But the attitude of joy, 

 From which fear takes flight. 

 This takes a faith,

 In something unending,

 For when all stands against us, 

 We need someone unbending,

 For we all make mistakes, 

 Because weakness is odd, 

 There is one who is perfect, 

 And that someone is God. 

 He will not stand before us, 

 To prove he is true. 

 When we live faith we prove him, 

 In what we say and do. 

 His  presents shows clearly, 

 With no reason to doubt, 

 He has signature results, 

 In how things work out. 

 In restoring the meeting, 

 And the joy back to life, 

 One must step from the darkness, 

 From confusion to light. 

 And then the blind can see, 

 For sight is from the heart, 

 We have never been alone, 

 God was there from the start.