Dandelions
We have been told, that each of us has a manifest destiny, And that our most futile action, would be to attempt mutiny, That fate has drawn up for each of us, a fixed path, And straying from which we
Esmeralda
While other baubles pray, for the redeeming grace of morning light, You always let slip, a few sparkles of delight, into the heart of night, Even on those mornings that seem engulfed by unseemly blight, You reassure those around, with
Rubicon
Many have walked this path before me, and yet the corpses are so few, The ones that lie before me, are warnings painted a crimson hue, Warnings that most before me found wise enough to heed, This only made
Strands of Belief
We pluck fluffy balls of cotton from so many different plants, Having no idea, which would end up in towels, mops, and pants, But every tuft itself, shorn of identity, has no consequence to dread, Caring even less, that many
Stormrider
You wonder why nobody talks anymore about possession, Why this deathly silence on an unacknowledged obsession, About this edifice painstakingly built, built by brick, Ever confident that just another would do the trick. When you spend every day laying the