Life,
Is hard.
Many things, …

Silently and graciously,
They live,
Until for a cause, …

As the years,
Have gradually passed,
And I rewind the past, …

Some days,
I neglect to care.
It’s not a willing act, …

Removed.
On the periphery,
Of today’s modern world. …

Perhaps thoughts,
Are water like.
It takes years, …

I used to climb,
Thinking it’s growth.
Until I learned, …

Days,
That seem upside down,
Are no longer bothersome. …

No matter how tightly packed,
Or thick the concrete,
Hearts often find ways, …

When distracted,
I gaze into the eyes.
For it is there, …

I often looked,
To discover the real who,
Hidden behind closed doors. …

Today,
I’d rather float beneath,
Unheard and unseen, …

Perhaps,
Despite the haziness,
I do know the way. …

Looking up to climb,
Or standing below gazing,
From where I arrived. …

Watching a river,
Soothes my soul.
The sound, …

Sometimes I try,
In vain to understand,
What the artist feels, …