Truth, like wisdom,
is always where you find it,
and where it finds you ...

In Memory of a true friend

Now I can cross the shifting sands...

reason

This...
is not
what we are for.
This is
how we fill the time
between
one great moment
of reason,
to the next.
Heaven sees us
and hell awaits
our arrival...
So much time wasted.
All the seconds
tick down
on my life
and the last
great moment of reason
eludes me still.

"Tell us of the fall of Heroes"

wind

Listen
to the wind,
and hear the sound
of my heart breaking
as it moves
through eternity
on its way
to a place
where angels
still weep
over the souls
of those
who have lost
all love.

wisdom

Men,
in their infinite greatness
keep their worldly knowledge
written down
in books and scrolls
and so sell to all
who would pay the price
for that which
should be earned.
But their wisdom,
they keep close at hand
to be shared with
angels and saints

path

Eventually
all things
merge into one.
The truth is always
the truth,
no matter where you find it.
Wisdom is always wisdom
whether found in heaven
or hell.
There is only
one answer,
one path to take,
one chose to make,
and this you will know
when it is time
to choose.

deeds

Great deeds go undone, while men of great stature
stand idle.
So men of lesser worth are elevated by fortune
and need.
In their ranks, count I as one.

time

In the fullness
of time,
all that we have
strived to build
will lay wasted.
great monuments
will not bring back
the dead they honour.
so the causes
that men live
and die for,
will lay forgotten,
remembered only
in unread books,
stacked high.

truth

I know now,
there is no
one thing
that is true.
From dawn
till dusk
in the shadows
of all
that lay
in between.
the truth
is where
you find it,
and also,
where you don't.

Eris Quod Sum, I am what you will be

Pen to Paper

If I was
not so compelled,
Never again
would I
pick up this pen
and put on
unforgiving paper
that which
stays best
in my heart
and in my head,
but instead
aches to be released.
Though it be
not worthy
of even
lesser men,
It is
in the end,
all I have
that is
truly me.

victory

I have
a mind to,
and a way
of being
likened
by few,
and so admired
by still fewer.

In life,
as in love,
you hold the field
till the end
of the day,
and hope
that victory
is sweetly still
after the loss
of all that would flower.

One such as I
is not meant
to know love,
though
I have known her.

So victory
is for
the morning air,
and she lingers
with me
only in my dreams,
of which
dawn
has cast oddly
a shadow.

So distant
from me
is she now,
that my heart
surrenders.
All this
have I lost
this bright day.

rise

Late in the evening,
long after
the moon rises,
I walk through my home
and all my many things
speak to me,
in a voice
not always bad
though not
always good.
And then I kneel
and pray.
God really never
speaks to me,
though sometimes
he does hear me,
and he always knows
I am hear.