The Departure

"Be it sight, sound, the smell, the touch. There's something, inside that we need so much, the sight of a touch, or the scent of sound, or the strength of an oak with roots deep in the ground. The wonder of flowers, to be covered and then to burst up, to tarmack, to the sun again, or to fly to the sun without burning a wing, to lie in the meadow to hear the grass sing, to have all these things in our memories hoard and to use them, to help us, to find . . . . !"

Late Lament

"Breath deep the gathering gloom, watch lights fade on every room. Bedsitter people look back and lament, another day's useless energy spent. Impassioned lovers wrestle as 1, lonely man cries for love and has none. New mother picks up and suckles her son, senior citizens wish they were young. Cold hearted orb that rules the night, removes the colors from our sight. Red is gray and yellow, white. But, we decide which is right and which is an illusion!?*"