trust the one who seeks the truth doubt the one who says he’s found…

I gaze into the bleakness of the e… engulfed by a sense of futility an… I am like the man who keeps fishin… though he knows the river is spent… I cast my line into the milky pool…

God has spoken. I have been listening, the message is clear. The psalm itself is silent, if the psalmist’s voice falls stil…

Not a poem. I hurt; like a Frankenstein monster. Iron fist. Unrelenting.

I am awash with tears of mourning for what I thought was dead and go… as though a flood of holy water has broken through the stony dam I contrived to spare this brittle…

I hide here behind a genuine misbelief that I am special, I am different I and only I

This trembling grief is for a long lost soul, a young, guileless child I once knew as me. I truly believed

Within this pilgrim’s soul exists a hungry beggar waif, who can never afford a moment of indifference or distraction. Alert to every aching nuance

A subtle movement, a facial expression, a particular posture, the constant hint of danger; as if he were here again,

The old priest gazes out upon his… each head bowed before the sacred… A scarred and broken bodied warrio… seeking inner peace and final abso… An elderly wealthy man of commerce…

Weep for the fallen warriors. Weep for those souls considered collateral damage. Weep for the profiteers. Weep for the deserters.