It’s not often,
When we feel at one,
With everything around. …

Multi-colored,
Assorted textures,
Embedded with stories, …

When something,
Is hard to understand,
Unabashedly I ask. …

It is those moments,
When empty and dry,
As one strives on, …

The longer I’ve lived,
The more I believe,
That things really aren’t, …

One day,
When I’m old,
I’ll find a place, …

Perhaps one day,
We’ll let others see,
What resides inside, …

Stand straight,
And tall my son.
Even when you feel, …

It is exasperating,
When I cannot perceive,
The obvious, …

Perhaps these days,
I mostly like the old,
Because it is what, …

Clear,
Perspective matters.
Especially, …

A fresh sunrise,
Or a lazy sunset.
From a picture, …

Blemishes,
Inborn marks,
Age-old darkness, …

Staring outside,
As sunny fields,
Fly by. …

To judge,
Or to feel.
Sometimes, …

To sit under a tree,
Somewhere over the hill,
Where no one knows, …