A new day dawn's.
My heart is ablaze.
I've made it.
I've made it.
I'm still here.

Through the night I did slumber.
As over me He did watch.
Morning has broken,
A new day ahead.
Come hell o high water, through it I will get.

To Texas our hearts  cry out.
As in prayer we will you keep.
Your pain is our pain.
Oh Texas.

We are all just a heartbeat away.
Seeking for joy, love ,peace and happiness.

The Grave.
Each and every one of us was put on this earth to fulfill a purpose.
No matter what color or  creed  we were uniquely and beautifully designed by the potter.
But the grave becomes the  victor as many life's  come to an end,too many stories never told ,wasted talents , visions lost and swallowed up by the grave.

I can't guarantee
my words shall stay
as fertile tomorrow
as those of today

inspiration
is a queer thing
it's miracle now
but next be nothing

ah,  this is the sad lot
of the lonely poet:
he can shine one day
or drown in nought

as his muse diminishes :
words, oh words--the grief
when away they hid
and such void it does leave!

Strung prose
Like puzzle pieces
Broken across the page
No longer
Im too linear now
For all that
Maybe
Before long
I'll write
Instruction manuals
And think
They're poetic

All we need is darkness
for the natural selection of light
I watch the past as a travel show
the necessity or adversity ignites language,
different shapes of games, we like the power plays
of circle
let me be sealed in a wave
I want to descend to the faith of sand
to the Cro-Magno vision of words