Son of the Morning
Son of
the
morning.
Bring
forth
dawn.
Brightness
outshine
night.
Son of
the
morning.
Bringer
of
light.
Brighten
my
soul.
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Fearless Reason
Fearless reason in an age of frightened absurdity.
April 3, 2018
March 31, 2018
Waiting til the Harvest
Waiting
til the
harvest.
Sewing
seeds of
anticipation.
Waiting
for ripeness
not ruin.
Reaping
a bounty of
expectations.
Waiting
til the
storm.
Preparing
to be
born.
March 23, 2018
Falling Upward
The world
is falling
apart.
But we
are falling
upward.
Chaos
reigns in
public places.
But we harbor
peace in
private moments.
Hatred
shouts from
on high.
But we embody
love from
below.
The world
is falling
apart.
But we
are falling
upward.
March 20, 2018
Darkest Before Dawn
Darkest
before
dawn.
They
broke
us.
Broke
us
open.
Yet light
will break
from our broken
hearts.
Darkest
before
dawn.
They
cut
us.
Cut
us
open.
Yet beauty
will break
from our severed
hearts.
Darkest
before
dawn.
They
tore
us.
Tore
us
open.
Yet love
will break
from our mangled
hearts.
February 28, 2018
Your Duty is Love
Forsake
duty that
is not loved.
It is not
your burden
to bear.
Your
duty is
love.
Your
burden
joy.
Change
is nature’s
law.
Permanence
mankind’s
nightmare.
Forsake
that which
is not yours.
February 26, 2018
Duty is Heavy
Duty is heavy
when the heart
is not light.
Obligations
undertaken
but not forsaken.
Imprison
us to the
past.
Binding
us to
lives.
Chosen
by former
selves.
Long after
joy and desire
have fled.
February 20, 2018
To be Obscure
I want
to be
obscure.
Unseen
unknown
unsolicited.
I want
to be
nobody.
Nameless
formless
empty.
I want
to be
unbound.
Unburdened
Unbidden
Unencumbered.
I want
to be
free.
February 19, 2018
May the Suffering End with Us
May the
suffering
end with us.
Let us
receive
it.
Absorb
its
inertia.
But not
pass it
on.
May the
suffering
end in us.
Let us
heal
it.
Transmute
its
nature.
Then
pass it
on.
May the
old world
end with us.
February 19, 2018
Wed to Suffering
We are not
haunted
by our memories.
We
haunt
them.
We
revisit
the past.
Searching
for
meaning.
Picking
at
scabs.
Pain
becomes
us.
Divorced
from the
present.
We are
wed to
suffering.
January 30, 2018
Temple of the False Self
The temple
of the false self
grows more decadent
with decay.
Cracks
adorning its
still proud
face.
Midnight masses
gather at
the dark hour
of the soul.
Performing
pagan rituals
to heathen
gods.
Chanting
incantations
of their trials
and tribulations.
Telling
stories
of their
false selves.
Casting idols
in their own
graven
images.
They reaffirm
their faith
that one another
is real.
