6/23/11

Who is the woman who sings in the night,
passing my window about 4am,
Veiled in blue shadows and sheens of twilight,
What do her vocalizations portend?
How many times have I slept through her song,
Vague haunting softness which echoes and streams?
Is this the first time she wanders along,
Has she accompanied Countless dark dreams?
Sings she of triumph or true love or joy?
Is there regret in her strange melody
Does she seek at this odd time to annoy,
Envying those in safe comfort and sleep?
Now, in the darkness, again I'm alone,
Growing more distant, her lilting voice leaves.
As she sings onward she shall never know,
What comfort came of her brief company.

6/22/11

Appreciation often lacks,
Amid life's hardships and demands,
Our hopes and fears may oft detract,
The simple shine of routine plans.
The world abounds with heart's content.
And though at times we ache with need,
No less, enchants the rose's scent.
While one is pulling out the weeds.

6/21/11

Rough, severed, strands of muscles mend,
And capillaries reconvene.
Deep bruises, burnish, fade, and blend,
The flesh refreshed, wounds stitched and seamed.
A million cells restore and grow,
Afflicted matter rendered well,
Such healing miracles bestowed,
Yet, as they work, it hurts like hell.

6/20/11

The busiest times when we overextend,
We wish nothing else but more hours to sleep,
Yet when we are ordered to stay in our beds,
We argue like children to stand on our feet.
It seems we're unsatisfied lest we are tired,
Our worth only earned through the strain we exert,
If so, should not injury leave us inspired,
And when we are broken, pride not cause more hurt?

6/19/11

When one endures an injury, an ailment, or poor health,
The caution oft received is that one must refrain from toil.
You're told you must be patient in the healing of one's self,
Then watched with great impatience like a kettle set to boil.

6/18/11

I wind the clocks
And set the time
While medications melt my mind.
And moments blur
And hours bleed,
As time ticks on in mockery.

6/17/11

There once was a man who was able to build.
Employing these talents, his living was earned,
Yet fortunes far greater would his favor his skills,
If only the bridges he made did not burn.

6/16/11

In hospitals, the medicine most commonly applied,
Regardless of your malady or injuries received,
Would be a dose of pure frustration expertly prescribed,
To make you, at your earliest convenience, wish to leave.

6/15/11

Today I became vanished from the earth,
All that I ever was, and loved and feared,
And every moment captured from my birth,
Was in a single instant, disappeared.
The toggle lightswitch of my soul was tripped,
And in a blink of time, my years were gone.
All consciousness detached from life and slipped,
To dangle freely as the world spun on,
Until at once I was at last returned,
Reintroduced into life's waking fray.
So sobering a fact it is to learn,
How tentative a grasp maintains our days.