The Book
The Book
How good the night that darkens so
To guide me to my rest.
Where a favored Book lights up my eyes
As I nestle to my nest.
A few pages turned to praise the Lord
Seems too little price to pay...
For the gifts that have been measured
To get me through the day.
The End
Kindness
Kindness is a treasure map
To seek those who cannot stand.
Easing the afflictions they may suffer
At the wrath of idle hands.
The End
Friendship
True friendship must be cultivated
Like the furrows of the spring.
Its scarcity breeds some to panic...
Not sure what the harvest brings.
But to those who possess the fortitude
To palpate the earth between their toes
And with untiring hands... work the soil...
From such labor... friendship grows.
The End
Rocks
I've heard it many times before...
Peace is close at hand.
But vile vermin are fleet of foot
With eyes upon my land.
Is something wrong with what they have?
Have they rocks that shan't compete.
So they shoot and stab and maim and kill...
For the rocks beneath my feet.
The End
Selfishness
To what culmination do we dither
As we traverse these troubled shores?
But to make merry our fellow travelers
With good neighborly rapport.
But to those who bask in selfishness
And would obfuscate some future tense...
If we embrace such vile pettiness...
The world makes little sense.
The End
Procrastination
I was intent to slay a dragon...
Something massive to its size.
Where glory would be raised in song
At the word of its demise.
But the weather's rather chilly
And tomorrow lies ahead.
Procrastination is the blanket...
That binds me to my bed.
The End
Good Fortune
Good fortune seems a blessing...
It brings everything we need
Except those from the depths of Hell...
Who upon us...start to feed.
But alas...
Good fortune has a shelf life
And rarely sees the end of day.
But cements a second blessing...
As the parasites drift away.
The End
Time
Time is quite the withered grape
That grows sour on the vine.
Its abundance... a mirage of sorts
To keep the dregs in line.
Was the Singer of this merry tune
Fallacious to our ways?
With the morrow now in short supply...
I will live today.
The End
Treasure
Take stock of gifts received...
Tis meat upon the bone.
There is no grander treasure...
Than a child who waits at home.
Children bring ripeness to our journey
That makes bold our cherished bliss.
But to those who walk the road alone...
You know not what you miss.
The End
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