Stop changing…

And you will come to

A most unsavory

Form of death

 

Neither here

Nor beyond

Your spirit trampled

  —by a thundering heard

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)

The kingdom of knowledge

  to its crown we are wed

 

Its light our betrothal

  its heavens our bed

 

The words ever regal

  trousseau not to beg

 

Thus will it be written

  —thus will it be said

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

The older I get

  the closer it seems

 

The past from the future

  what’s real, to my dreams

 

The older I get

  the deeper it feels

 

Distraction aborted

  —all distance revealed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Contentment has set in

  all restlessness gone

 

The hour growing short

  —the day forever long

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

In the search for Crazy Horse,

  I found myself

 

He freed my voice,

  as he opened up my heart

 

Sharpening my words

  like the tip of his lance

 

Leading me through the forest

  back into the light

 

Across the wide prairie

  where the winds blow free

 

The sun not only rising

  —but pointing the way

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Imperfection…

 —the DNA within every art form

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)

How much is enough

 to have it all

 

How deep is the well

 where teardrops fall

 

How long is the parting

 until lovers weep

 

How high is the price

 —ourselves to keep

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

I made myself a wastrel

 an orphan of my choice

 

And severed all my family ties

 in search of my own voice

 

I left without once looking back

 the present straight ahead

 

The past redundant, future flawed

 to butter my own bread

 

The years have come with decades gone

 old memories buried deep

 

Of times when I was young and hurt

 to dream but not to sleep

 

New breezes blow, fair winds to call

 the children come and go

 

As here I sit with no regrets

  —my garden fully hoed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

Should God destroy a mountain

  because you’re afraid of heights

 

Should the sun stay fixed forever

  to keep away the night

 

Should the birds all sing in unison

  drowning out the siren’s call

 

Should the questions all have answers

 —with you master of it all

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

Basking in the glow

  of what already happened

 

I wait for the explosion

  —of that yet to come

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)