Swimming in the warmth
Comfortable in my womb.
Then some jerk disturbs me
And I enter the world.
Life is the little bug
That lives under the bark,
As the red and white crested woodpecker
Picks and struts his music.
Life is a squirrel rummaging for food.
And the pieces of fallen bark that will make up his home.
Life is my daughter's voice that echoes in the distance.
Life is knowing that this will someday be gone. Sunday April 24, 2011.
Spring sun shines shimmeringly.
I don't deserve this.
Paradise in my backyard.
I must allow this to be.
I want to tell you a story
But I don't think I will
'Cause I don't think you deserve it.
You'll blame and you'll stew.
It's a story of forgiveness,
One might almost say grace,
Because the human it happened to,
Very nearly saved face.
But I can tell you he didn't get it
He killed someone that night
And the person he slaughtered
Had saved his life.
She cared for him and loved him
But he was lost in his role
And that night he finished it off
What was left of his soul.
Let's face it, he helped no-one,
Sorry that's not true- he helped himself.
To a life of uncertainty
In a post modern world.
He wondered and thought, and thought and wondered.
Found a world without answers and answers without a world
Then slept with uncertainty, the whore of tomorrow.
The sky vibrates over his city
The stars say yes to whomever he is.
The sky says glory
The sky says grace
The sky says cold,