Death Is A Friend



We are born (borne) in death

As one moment dies

Another brings life


And we are here


What we are cannot last

Endings and beginnings

Never to be lived again


And we are here


Reborn in the gaps of time

Only one constant remains

Knowing alone stands


And we are here


In a dying world we live

Both reborn from ashes

Fresh as a rising sun


And we are here




I Will Smile



Throw at me what you may

I will smile

I know what all may not know


Twist and bend this mortal frame

I will smile

I am just a scene in your play


The silent author of this act

I will smile

I now understand your game


This role I will gladly play

I will smile

I need no words to reenact


Try harder day by day

I will smile

Broken I will remember


Together we began this game

I will smile

As you raise me from where I lay

Here Too Much


You should never be here too much

Be far away without a care

You should never be here too much

In the other place, that no one can share


You should never be here too much

Rest in the void beyond the door

You should never be here too much

Beyond the grasp of wanting more


You should never be here too much

Where they will try to change you

You should never be here too much

Where they force their point of view


You should never be here too much

Forced to see and think like they do

You should never be here too much

Open the door and step on through

A Stone Heart




Forged in a world of pain

Hardened by life

Driven by greed and gain

And so he learned

Never to be hurt again


Stoic and strong in many ways

But there were some times

Reflecting on some faded days

When it was not so

Bending a knee he often prays


Simple things he wants to feel

The joy of silence

To see what is truly real

Finally understood

There was nothing to heal


Falling upwards a heart will open

Time negates all wounds

The sheer falsity he was fed upon

Worries that never were

Truth is found in a kiss and a song






This one beside me

Cannot ease the pain

I endure the burden’s strain

To ease this mortal load

One would have to know


I would fade in days

My demons rant and rage

As I write upon this page

They try to hide

But I will not abide


In Mundane Things




Cutting grass, a chore,

Yet it can be so much more


Music in headphones,

Sunlight flickering

Motor humming

Squirrels bickering


And I am in the flowing

Part of without knowing


Muscles flex under load

Pushing as the grass blowing

And still the quiet remains

Among the chore ongoing


I am not the doer

But I am the doing

And it is done, it is always done.