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

If paper and pen
understand me to my core,
then it is my voice that betrays me evermore.
I know better, yet opening up
stays my biggest fear.
I am surface-leveled,
neither there, nor here.
And so comfortably, with no fuss,
I stay a projection,
nothing more than dust.
I am your imagination,
no depth,
no width.
I am only but a shell.
An empty figure,
stripped of will and vigor.

perhaps it isn’t right
but i needed God not in hindsight
nor footprints in the sand
I simply needed your hand

Look at me then,  
Look at me now,  
A lot has changed,  
I've matured somehow.  

Some things remain,  
Like my love for all,  
Look at me then,  
Look at me now.  

Once depressed, wanting to die,  
Crying each night, searching for why,  
Answers eluded, I wandered in dark,  
Except in God's light, where I found my spark.  

Now happy as a dog, florricking in fields,  
Joyful as can be, my heart freely yields.  
With a smile on my face, I invite you to see,  
You can't miss God's love that shines through me.  

Look at me then,  
Look at me now,  
Younger me would be so proud.

When pen doesn't reach paper.
I have nothing to say.
Peace has captivated me, and in it I will dwell.
It is like a gentle flowing river, soothing my soul.
Peace, Peace, Peace like a river.

Birthdays and gravity, the cause of it all
The older I get the more often I fall
Too old to have nice long hair
Too heavy in the middle to fly through the air

Birthdays and gravity, you are slowing me down
Old and heavy, I’m stuck to the ground
Too many candles and too much cake
Birthdays and gravity, that’s all it takes