The Tide


There is a natural flow to things
a direction of gravity
a way things simply are

There is what is
whatever might be ought
whatever might be meant to be
There are just the tides

It matters in this world
to be what cannot be
to do what will never succeed
to swim against the tide

And it is hard
but matters not to be in anger
and not to strike back
and to hope too for comfort

There is a natural flow to things
a direction of gravity
a way things simply are
It is important to be otherwise
otherwise there will be nothing else

Choosing Between


What might be seen
were I to open my eyes
What might be felt
were I to judge through unfiltered lens

The living is so hard
were it done honestly
The need of need so strong
and lie can serve so much

To see what is as is
and so find hardness
To retreat to self creation
and so find comfortable

This life of choosing
always between the two

A World Too Loud


Somewhere in mind
in some effort of thought
what chance there is
to find a sense in this world

But the so much noise
impinges hard
I cannot hear myself
enough to think

I am driven
crashed along from noise to noise
from one moment of reaction
to the next

bashed and battered
by noise from without
by noise from within

how to think
in a world too loud

Ahead And Now


The road holds before me
these things I seek
The things I will learn
to deal with and to grow from
what is ahead and now

I strive and struggle
I claw
and reach them

But in the moments I reach them
In the moments I learn
what was ahead and now
is now suddenly behind
The times in which was need
are times now gone past

So much work
so much effort
so much pain

What was worked for so hard
what was traveled for so long
what was finally learned
were for a time
I can but now look back to see

What is of time
that becomes of times no more
What is of me
that is the traveler through these times

Of all that needed
what can remain ahead
before it comes
already past



So many things I do
so many things not I
who does these things
I do

These things I do
to hide
to feel
to run
Sometimes to be

So many things
I do
and wonder
and wonder which

Which are the things
what still remains
where is I

What lies beneath
these things I do
why and which
and who am I