Knowing, 

  not repeating

 

The weakness

  of all refrain

 

A first cut,

  true and deepest

 

Once healed

  —its scar remains

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

In my heart I knew little of

 the world and all its parts

 

As I drifted idle and wandered blind,

 through constant fits and starts

 

My mind reached out beyond its grasp,

 with the questions close behind

 

As time unfolded upon itself

 —each moment to define

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Colors overtake me one by one,

 as they fuse within my mind

 

To paint their ancient messages,

 prismatic and sublime

 

The past is but enigma,

 tomorrow still a dream

 

This moment’s image all that lasts

 —in constancy redeemed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

 

 

 

What is the difference

 between a fact and the truth

 

One limited in time,

 the other free and unproved

 

Language and formula,

 the great deceivers abound

 

As the light burns inside us

 —our hearts to impound

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

When love commands

 —there’s precious time left to serve truth

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Today’s gone wild,

 killers on the fringe

 

A life to take, its fate to make,

 tomorrow—death’s revenge

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

When love deceives,

 the heart to bleed,

 its truth an open wound

 

Forever long,

 time’s painful gong,

 rerung with every moon

 

When love deceives,

 on bended knees,

 and lost within the pain

 

All wishes fly,

 with hope denied

 —as emptiness remains

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

From Winston:

“When youth departs

 —may wisdom prove enough”

 

To Winston:

“When spirit falters

 —all will to then prevail”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Raw and uncut, the Poet

  sharpened his edge

 

His entry point targeted,

  fury bright red

 

The first cut the deepest,

  and clean to the bone

 

A wound bleeding freely

   —all sutures unknown

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

No one ever dies for an idea,

 until it changes to a feeling

 

No one ever dies for a feeling

 —until darkness points to dawn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)