Every morning
Reborn into life
A simple and
overlooked gift
Without you
life is diminished
With you
life is improved
Words are artless
compared to you
To think of you
is to long for you
To know you
is to desire you
To have you
is to have all
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It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
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▼
2018
(251)
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▼
August
(21)
- Red Sunrise
- This life forever expanding and contracting as our...
- Over and Over
- On Death
- Eternal Life
- To Do
- There You Go
- A Gathering Storm
- Amputation
- Drown
- The Days and Nights
- When a grain of sand is moved has the whole beach...
- 5 a.m.
- Rebirth
- Love
- To Be
- Open Honesty
- Other Travels
- Cat Circus at the Governors Mansion
- Tired and restless Warm summer night left me tossi...
- Where Days Begin
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▼
August
(21)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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