6/7/11

We see a face in wooden grain,

Menageries in cloudy skies,

Our mind’s quick efforts to arrange,

The randomness before our eyes.

Thus when existence is unclear,

As chaos reigns and chance displays,

We trade illusion for our fears,

By falling to our knees to pray.

6/6/11

When comes the day we loose our way,

It is life’s greatest gift.

Illusions made, shall go astray,

When comforts run adrift.

Left all alone, a mind may float,

Bereft of certainty,

And anchorless, shall find confessed,

All stark reality.