Subjective to Context

There is never enough time

And so much left to do

And all on someone’s dime

And never a strait way through.


There is never enough time

And always too much to do

And things don’t go your way

And the light can’t make it through.


There is never enough time

And always in the dark

When you just want to see

But can’t seem to make a spark.



Even here in the desert

The morning’s cool hangs full

And out there in the sagebrush

Is possibility.


The night has finally ended

And the sun come round again

Perhaps this day will differ

From all the others.


Someone has a rooster

Down the road a ways

It always feels the need to sing

Or so I tell myself.


But with the gentle morning

Comes another chance

And all that went before

May not come again.

A Way In

Descent into that cold dark place

Deep beneath the waves

Brings all the fear I’ve ever known

Into my reality.


Looking down that dark dark field

At the hand reaching up

An angel beckoning me to come

An angel of death.


The cold is harsh this far below

And the pressure pushes in on me

All around there monsters be

Hidden in the dark.


Nothing in this life prepared

Nothing made me ready now

But here beneath the murky waves

I have entered in.


Into my own heart I went

Deep into the dark

All the demons swim around

Just out of sight.


The panic and the fear are fierce

The terror never been more real

Deep down in my own sad heart

I cannot feel the sun.

The Boat

The boat we sail is long and fast

And makes good time in great storms

And all life’s questions are here at last

But they tend to be about these forms.


And these forms, the trouble is,

They are of the boat,

And we are in the ocean sea

And have to keep afloat.


So how do we?  who want to know

Begin to map our quest?

When all the while we are at sea

Sailing to the west.


The things our hearts burn to know

Have this simple trouble here

They are the boat itself you see

And so you see we have this fear.


How can we, while afloat,

Make our queries count?

When we are out amidst the sea’s

Limitless fearful fount?

My Friends

What is best today my friends?

On what should we embark?

In what dark corner should we move?

And light up with our spark?


What sad soul should we embrace?

And what tired friend should we support?

And what scared child should we protect?

And bring into our mighty fort.


The world is full of drowning souls

And hearts bleeding rivers red

Spirits broken on the ground

And flesh so truly dead.


How do we ourselves so frail

Carry others on?

And how do we ourselves so weak

Work to make them strong?

The Times

Here is the time of giants

Where swords will keep you safe

And maidens dance around great fires

To follow many wraiths.


The wizards plot in soaring spires

High above the land

And kings and queens around the earth

Are tiny grains of sand.


Here is the time of giants

Let heroes gather here

And make a stand for us all

Who tremble here in fear.


The View

When you are in this little room

Do you see walls or prison bars?

When you are here to stay for good

Have you come home or are you trapped?


It’s funny all the things inside

That make us see the world around

And though we wish that we could hide

We can’t escape the things inside.


So on the day you find yourself

In the same place for some time

If you look around you for awhile

It may tell you what’s inside.

Seeing Inside

I remember that sparkle in your eye

It was undefinable; it was magic

I could always look inside

But you were the only one I knew who could do it too.


It’s hard when you feel all of their hurt

To see something good

And say something nice

I usually don’t; I just hurt with them.


I wonder if you avoid peoples eyes

I do.

You don’t usually look inside and get to see

That sparkle.

Dear God,

How is it that one does want?

And how is it that one finds life?

And how is it that one believes?

Down in this pit of grief and strife.


How is it that trust maintains?

When I can’t trust myself

And where is it, this dusty thing?

Hidden on some dusty shelf.


How do people feel that life

Is wholly still unfair?

How do people feel like that?

Breathing in this air.


What’s inside cannot be faked

And we have no control

What do you oh Lord and God

Seek from this poor soul?


Make in me what I cannot

Put in me this heart

Cause me to desire things

And I will have to start.