Monday, January 9, 2012


I think you knew
Despite yourself
That day on the pier
Would be our last.
The wind was fierce
Your words were terse
Hubris, my dear,
Is your specialty.
Yet, my tears tasted sweet
Because I knew,
Despite myself
You were my hindrance.
And now I'm free.


Your decision
Was no decision.
No guilt
No blood on your hands.
Just tears in my coffee
And bitterness in my tea.

Free Will

If our free will leads us to our destiny
Is the will truly free?
Our decisions truly ours?
Do the tides feel our thoughts before they form?
Do we create our reality,
Or are the circumstances of our circumstances
Prescribed for us--
Limiting the scope of our "freedom"
To choose an alternate ending?
This is the proverbial vortex of the conundrum;
The universe prescribed--
That allows lovers to love
And hopers to hope.

But for a Season

Grieve for the loss of love
But never regret.
Each person comes into our lives
But for a season
To teach us something masterful.
Even if it is but how to endure the pain of loss.
Our tempestuous whims lead us to peril
So provocatively our hearts are ripped out
Left bleeding on the floor
Sweet carnage
Yet, these same wayward whims provide us with
The greatest joys in our lives.
The absence of these, therefore,
Would create our darkest hours.