A hope once held in steady hand,
Aligning life; present all around,
Simple as a task; like tuning a guitar,
Board a taxi; destination: afar,
Ignoring cost; saving face, and cake.

A dream once presented; black and white,
Be there; defiant in the no-go areas,
Show no fear; show no sorrow,
Birds will sing; and Shostakovich dream,
Is there time left; tick tock says the clock.

A thought once lost; irrelevant alikely,
Catch a bird; in hand has value,
Sparrows or Hummingbirds alike,
Bygones be bygones; be that as it was,
Icicles form without death or sorrow.

On this I will ponder; on the morrow.

I was happy once,

I recall the ache of too much

laughter

.

Where did that all go?

.

All those years ago

.

Did I not deserve more?

.

Was there sin of

karmic proportions?

.

I was unaware then; loitering,

walking down a path

not meant for me

.

Ending up here; alone,

where happy is a word

in a dictionary

I do not own

.

sadly

.

Te guila / through fire water from a mother’s womb was born / beneath mountains forged through halestorm and fire rain succumbed / her power unshaded by centuries of smouldering dead / Te guila / my love / this abyss with no end awaits / I desend without farewells / I trust you to greet me / in Hell

the cross

On my back; a cross,

a filter pertinent to a

world unbearable

.

I explot thus; shading

them by shielding me,

never though; however vast

the cross will be a burden

.