hope

by

thoughts during sleepless nights…

thoughts during sleepless nights

there are
more
dead
than alive
on
battlefields
so
many martyrs
rushing to death
to
save souls
lost
long
before
the battle began
but
blind belief
as
all
belief
has to be
since
belief
has no foundation
in
reality
it’s just
an undocumented
immigrant
outside the borders
of
reason
settling
wherever
there
is
a vacant heart
those
homeless encampments
thirsty
for
hope’s pure waters
said to flow
from
the fountain
of
youth
or
perhaps
the concept caves
of
rebirth
that
eternal existence
that can
shun
the coldest
of
death’s frosted earth
for
it is said
that the soul
rises
before
entering the grave
so
what use
were those bells
were
they for
just nonbelievers
who were
prematurely
ushered
into
the void
not
having a chance
to
declare
tho
hesitantly
their belief
in
the wonderland
of
afterlife
but
who is to say
since
no one
has
stepped forward
from
their crypt
to
provide
any
testimony

by

abilene paradox…

how has time
changed
you
what dreams
have
you forgotten
or
abandoned
leaving
empty spaces
in
your heart
and
mind
seen by some
as
a far away look
or
just plain emptiness
that
you
cannot explain
to
those who ask
is there something wrong
a question
rarely answered
in
truth
just the typical offering
of
empty platitudes
things are fine
nothing to worry about
couldn’t be better
or
some other
verbal detour
from
the truth
served up with a practiced smile
but
closing your eyes
you can see
that empty space
but
you decide
to
move on
into
the new day
without
what’s been missing
for
so long

 

by

standing on shaky ground…

there’s
an unevenness
to
life
causing
our unsteady gait
as
we travel
through
our lifetime
oh
we can map out
the smallest details
but
nothing ever
goes as planned
the terrain
changes around us
as if
manipulated by some
unseen force
or
perhaps
random quakes
from
the earth
beneath us
the cause
really doesn’t matter
just
how one
regains
their footing

 

by

all the lonely people…

as if
things weren’t
bad enough
a pandemic
leaving
blank page
days
as
the daily fare
a forced diet
of
silence
it’s
not that
i
crave
wordy
desserts
piled high
with
nonsensical
phrases
of
sweet compliments
or
mundane platitudes
used
to
fill the empty void
of
uncomfortable social silence
no
what
i’m concerned about
are
the
mind locked people
sitting alone
well
stranded
at
home
with nothing more
than
netflix
or
appletv
as
their companion
as
entertaining
as
that may be
it isn’t
a substitute
for
feeling the pulse
of
another human
either
kinesthetically
or
metaphorically
through
their eyes
no
it’s
father mckenzie
writing words
of
a sermon
no one
will hear
nor
care
about
it’s
the sadness
of
forced solitude
where
even the start
of
the new day
offers
little
hope