Every girl has a lost path

Last night we walked arm in arm

beneath spring moonlight and early evening stars

Something about you speaks to me

Words of promise, words of hope

I can't deny it

And I don't want to

My request is patience, a moment of trust in time

If you give me the chance

If you find it in your heart

Something about you speaks to me

I ask for the gift of grace, an unearned reward

In return I give my greatest effort

Ask for more, and it may be yours

But that is for the future

For now, something about you speaks to me

Digging up the past

Its a cold January night
But the stars are out
And instead of losing hope
I'm filled with star light

It's not intense and bright
Rather its soft and eternal
I feel its guidance
Yet without being demanding

Star light is noble
Easy to be ignored
Still deeply inspiring
If you haven't notice lately

look up

~January 27, 2007

Christmas cheer, melancholy and sorrow

Gazing out onto the silver ribbon of river

My thoughts drift to worrisome woes

Loved ones battling grief, indecision and the creeping footsteps of death

As holiday chatter mingles with the everyday bustle of life

My heart is torn - between levity and anguish

The darker emotions feel heavy while the joyful ones, sparkly and fine

Must we choose?

What will we lose?

An answer to these tragedies are often too difficult to define.

Bygone prose of yore (circa 2006)

I wish that the kindred spirits of the world could appreciate and believe in their amazing gifts.  That they could view their lives and realize that even through the sorrow and pain, they have so much to look forward to.  In each person's heart is a precious dream that grows and changes, sometimes it almost disappears.  In that dark time when the epiphany light is dim... and hope fades in the dying summer sunset, truth still sparkles.  Even if it is but a speck in the vast ocean, it can greatly influence the world around it.  The trouble starts in the realm of doubt, where those special few are beaten and battered by the broken fools with careless words and actions.  And the handful of kindred spirits wither in the wind... while a few escape with only partial memory of who they are.  But instead of giving up, they have the strength to survive.  Imprinted with their destiny yet unable to decipher the code.  In the echo of negative voices their silence proves more meaningful.  And again, doubt creeps in to have its way.  Still I know the strength of fear is no match for a loving prayer.

An inaugural run

 Greetings from the shire