The Sound of Rain
How strange and how familiar
to hear the sound of rain
falling outside my window.
It is a good thing, this rain, when
it is falling so gently. There
are no more leaks in the roof.
The sound of rain is soothing.
I want to crawl back in bed
and sleep a little more. I have
to get ready for work. I hope
the roads are steady as this
rain. It is not always this way.
I could hear the trains in
the distance. I prefer the sound
of rain. It is time to go now.
Inventing Words
Words are meant to be invented.
It is the only way to destroy things.
The sun will be left standing.
The Sphinx will lose more than its nose.
Our dreams will keep us human.
Our deaths will not compare to our
lives. As the hourglass empties,
the river will surely dry out.
Words should speak truth to power.
There is nothing greater than love.
The sword is not as mighty as words.
Battle with words, you’ll be amazed.
The ocean can become a teardrop.
The sky can become an empty mirror.
The word is a match that starts the fire.
When it gets cold, light the match.
Words are beautiful and frightening.
They bring the moon to eye level.
Words are everything and more.
Ask whomever has invented one.
I Don’t Want To Tell You
I don’t want to tell you
my sad stories,
but I had not found calm
as much as I want
in all my anxiety.
I don’t want to tell you
how weak I get,
how my voice trembles,
how my smile has been
dominated by dread.
If I take a deep breath,
take a slow pause,
this desert of joy
will become an oasis
supplanting all my fear.
Golden Years
In the golden years
the angels sang
and walked the streets
with their wings down.
No one touched them.
No one thought to
take their wings to
sell for profit.
These days nothing
is sacred, no
one is safe from
the greed of
dark profiteers
in these dark years.
The angels fly
and keep away,
their wings intact.
They hardly sing.
Deja Vu, All Over Again
Deja Vu,
all over again,
have I been
here before?
Somehow, I
remember all the
lives I have
ever lived.
In my dreams
I say to myself,
I want to ask you
how does it feel
to live your life
after living it again?
It makes me sad to
know the past.
It makes me sad to
know my future.

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