The Halt

Slowly I take my steps, careful as I move.
The woods are dark now and I hear nothing familiar.

Crunching leaves and glimpses of stars through the trees
come to be the only hope- and a beacon they are.

Carrying it all- up
and back down, but I am too scared to stop.

No moon can I see, even he has abandoned me.
The drum of my heartbeat and the pulse in my soul are all to rely on.

Coming to a halt, I sleep in the snow.
And I take on the dreams of the ones who have slept there,
hoping that one day I will do it again.

The song I refused

Time moves like a freight train
passing up my town.

But off in the distance-
smoke can be seen, engines can be heard.

The calenders will lie to you,
but the past will come back.

Krishna helped me load my boxcar
but when it came down to it-
I couldn't do it.

The trouble with him is the flute he plays,
puts you in that mood.

I refused it like one refuses chocolate,
or a door-to-door salesman, "no thanks"
then I smile.

Hoping for Hope- Advent, Week 2

"Restore us again, O God of our salvation,"
-Psalm 84:4a

"Hope is a state of mind, not of the world..Hope, in this deep and powerful sense is not the same as joy that things are going well, as willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good."
-Vaclav Havel (Czech Republic)

Ocean Solitaire

Are we more than ants running wild in our anthill?
I think,
we are.

We will be.