The Praise of Rain

Rain, you know not the place you hold in the heart of a desert soul.
You are the promise of retreat and renewal, of life and rest.
You are the long awaited savior to desolation's home.
You are the bringer of new beginnings and the force of change.
Come and stay, for none other is more loved.
Come and stay, for none others name is so cherished.
Come and stay Goddess of Rain and bless us with your charity.

It Is What It Is

Long way down, longer way up, so you sit at the edge of your world and wait.
It is hard to be good when your hurting inside, hard to let go of the old ways.
Choices become your history and wear well or heavily on your heart.
We are all alone and we are all lost, some find comfort in it, others distress.
Some become map makers others take the dive, some become climbers , others never try.
But all in the end remember the trip, some with a smile and others with regret.

Somedays life is a quick walk down a short road, other days you count the cracks.

A Beautiful Place

I need to go to a beautiful place that I may remember my name.

Someplace with trees that have seen it all, water that cleans and ripples and falls, and soil that reclaims its bounty.

I need to find balance again, to fill up and to let go, to somehow really know what it is to be at peace in this skin.

When We Fall

I heard a creaking moan beneath my feet, a small running crack made its way across my path. I heard the tear within my heart and my eyes filled with the pain of a thousand years.

Steady as you go, even if its down. Steady as you go its so far down.

I looked for the light house but it was not to be found.

I circled about like a mad dog hoping for enlightenment or a saviors hand.

I resolved to the fact that I was breaking despite all of my best intentions.

There teetering on the edge, I wait for a breeze.

And this is how it feels when we fall.

Death

Death is not brought by the wings of a bird but accompanied in the heart of the departing.

It is conceptions resolution, a caterpillars transformation to a spiritual plane, the same self in new skin, yet again.

How could I deny it or think myself undeserving when so many greater than I have taken its hand. Death would be an honor if walked in your steps, a simple, loving being resigned without regret.

Him

I saw him once in a foggy daydream standing below a nights burning streetlamp.
He faced me, hands in the pockets of his long tailored coat. I knew him somehow but his name escaped me. I felt that if he would only speak his voice would clear my head, I would remember.
He looked like home and I so wanted to return, my eyes locked afraid to look away.
Half of my heart wept for needing him and the other rejoiced having not seen his face to miss.