The Old Woman's Words of Consolation

"It must be hard having eyes like yours."
Said the old woman to the boy.
"Tell me, what is it like to see into the soul?"

The boy answered,
"I'm scared most of the time and look for as long as I am able to out of politeness.
Distraction is my friend"

The old woman gave the boy a pen full of ink
And instructed him to write on his hands
A word or two of his own.

With that he covered his eyes knowing what
Was in the darkness was of his own making.

There he could take rest and refuge from those
Baring themselves without consequence.

The Hovering Artist

Sun shine brightly on my hands,
Through clouds and trees,
For me to do your bidding,
To put your will before me.

The birds were your voice,
The people, paint on your earth caught,
Held up floating by the angels,
So fine, thread pulled taught.

No rain or storm or mildew
On my bread,
A calm and quiet
Bedstead.

So light in the sky,
I hover up above,
The pictures I create,
Are the signs of love.

Opaque

Close it all,
Close every latch and lock,
Bring it closer to me,
Inside the room closer still.

Push it out of every hole,
Out of socket and key hole,
Further out of gaps,
Under and over doors.

Cover me,
Cover all the floors,
Sheath the walls,
Mask the windows.

I do not want to see,
Out of fitted glass,
Or through the slits in the walls,
No holes in my house.



Somethings

Somethings better than nothing

Isn't always the case,

Where key memories arrest

The personality at its base.

Where the dreams within surround us

Like pillows upon which we rest our heads,

Take equal billing with our memories

And occupy us till death.

We temper times we wish would pass

With merriment and mirth,

In hopes that through it all one day,

We'll all give out to birth.



The Necessity of Stones

To leave the past

You have to forget the ones

Who remember it.

Keep the ones, who forget,

As they will stay with you another day

And you can throw the stones away.