Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Tuesday, June 15, 2004


Everything here comes with
a thousand words.
His face could mystify sages
of ancient times, become a
wistful sonnet so full of
meaning, tenderness.
Eyes much more than windows,
God only knows how it's a
day's work to look into,
or ever find them.
Keeping mindful of visions
that ever holds those stars
adrift, clear.
Watch how they glitter,
coat the mountain breeze,
the air so thin and pure here.
Just these short hours under
the night and the breathing
is easy, sighs so fulfilling.
Look at him sleeping, so content,
he has a beautiful soul.

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