Chains

Time passes
We grow,
together, apart, by our own
merits.
and in each second,
I return
to what I have said and done.
We are
the sum of our past
Shaping our future,
so why does this feel like
I am
Bound?
These chains
remind me
and while I continue
to move onwards,
it is moving on
which is prevented.
I seek absolution
for no faults but
my own,
crimes so private
that they are
in my eyes
Only.
I seek a savior
in myself.
We grow,
apart,
together,
And I return.

Rust

Rust and steel
chains of iron
running floor to ceiling
Bindings for the room
of the mindful
of regrets.
They are restraints
to hold back,
hold together
hold on
for one more
sunbathed night
hiding your shadows.

Behind Speech

Actions speak louder than words
Or so goes the knowledge
common.
But what is forgotten most often
is that speech is action.
It is no longer
the contents
but the presence of speech
that may hold the importance,
as does silence.
All things are action,
even words.
Take care that your speech
behind speech
speaks what it must,
for that
is the speech heard loudest.

Touch

I miss the embrace
That I may not
have truly felt.
Was it touch?
Or was it mirage,
sensation without substance.
Subsistence of the mind,
sustaining a lie
to sustain head
heart and soul
desire the touch
that the body acquires
so readily,
yet flees
from their grasp
they fall
and scatter,
thought, sound, words
but not touch.

Fall Breeze

Fall comes,
the hot days of seasons past
coming cool.
And I sit
on my porch
and feel the breeze,
the faint touch of wind
on a darkening night,
reminding me of
the heat of that which
passed,
the chill of what is
to come.
Prepare for the future,
they say,
and gather the fuel.
Forget the past,
they say,
and warm yourself
by the fire.
To them, I say this:
The same sun shines
o'er spring and fall.
And while its light
may dim sooner,
its heat may leave us,
I shall remain faithful
to its warm embrace.
Time may take her away
but shall yet return her again.

Sun

If fighting is sure to result in victory
you must fight.
But a fight you may lose
is far greater in magnitude.
If the dice may roll
for or against favor
you must fight
with zeal,
for chance always
lies subordinate
to effort.

Marble

I take up my tools again,
begin to chip away.
All creation is born from destruction,
careful blows exploiting
imperfection in form
to give sensation to meaning.
Resilient to effort, fleeting to time,
still I toil
to make a fraction of thoughts known.