Waves dance upon the shore

Falls upon and ruins with the roar.

Last from the sea’s interior floor,

Invisible to the closing door.

See by the window, at each tower,

Encircle fast through fields of fire.

Soon into the last noble hour

Hath the wish of the heart’s desire.

Unless we hold this sky in fire,

We will never betray it to night,

If by faith, in some deep expire.

Me through my heart and my heart must light.



Whose box is that? I think I know.

I wonder if the owner is happy though.

Is he full of joy, maybe so?

I watch him laugh; I muster a hello.

He gives his box a shake,

Curiosity of what’s inside must ache.

The only other sound’s the break,

Of distant waves and birds awake.

The box is heavy, empty, and deep.

But he has promises to keep.

After long days and little sleep,

Sweet dreams don’t come cheap.

He rises each morning from a make shift bed,

With thoughts of days gone by in his head.

He sips on coffee and dunks his bread.

Ready as he can be for the day ahead.



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Pushing 50. Survivor of 3 wars, child abuse, divorce, parenthood, several near death experiences, endless meetings, and one too many Saints heartbreak seasons.