What has happened to the beauty in the world? The soft spoken words and the continuous smiles on the faces of the children? Where are all the hopes and the dreams and the desires? Not illusions of grandeur, but the simple joy that is brought in the hope of a tomorrow which has not yet failed to be? Bring the beauty back to my life of a slow laugh, a soft rain or a beautiful song. Bring to me the love of another, the desire of a heart and the hope of a promise that tomorrow life will be mine.

And just for a minute
there is silence;
suspending the tension's
thick fog
in the air.
Though peace is left only
in memory's grasp,
and comfort
is left wanting,
still for a moment I
can enjoy
the calm.
How long has it been
since I last inhaled?
Was it when I traded
dream for dream?

Musings

We fight so hard for the complacency of a bureaucratic democracy. But what happens when the institution fails us?



Wound in my soul are the gutter marks of insanity.



Is there a limit to human suffering or peace?



I worry about the darkness in the world, forgetting that others have tasted it.



Can you love without caring?



Perhaps my tears are not for sadness or discomfort...perhaps my tears are my heart's desire to reach out and feel something more.



It is not the idea of foreign agents that worries me. It's the neighboring heart.



What is it about the human heart that sighs for contentment but ribs at its mark?

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7

Speak once of lightening,
soft on clouds of grey.
Hear not of thunder's
might beyond the sea.
Sunlight's rays do
brace the standard of
pure and rare
while windows break
beyond the beating rains
of soul's despair.

Would you love me still if today meant forever? When the edge of what is and what could have been are resolved into what is good enough? There I find you--my broken dream. These places in my mind, do they exist as more than mere fancy or illusion's call? I was so afraid to be alone, and with my fear I pushed you far aside. So I wait for you in the night, my broken heart, to cut through my silenced dreams with the strength of hope emboldened within your form.

What do we do in those moments when words abandon us? What do we do when we are left not with comfort and surety, but the complex presence of thought unrealized?

What do you do with the unspoken idea? That which you hold to be good and true and real but which is interrupted by our own being?

Passion

True Passion does not end with a climax or begin with a suggestion. True Passion is alive always within one's soul.