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Past Present Future


Clarksville, TN, US

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autumn of man


Past Present Future

perhaps it is the season. the winds of change blow a little stronger; a little more frequent.

that which was full of life begans to fade, yet we cling as is our nature. the vibrant greens we once sported so proudly to the strongest of winds, now begins to turn shades of pale and firey reds, soon to fall with the slightest breeze.

perhaps it is the season that i must be stripped of my outer life; to lay bare and exposed for a time. but i shall not die. i shall use this season for inner strength. to nuture that which is eternal and be ready to bring forth new life when it is the season of renewal.

perhaps it is the season; the autumn of man.

soul collector


Past Present Future

i smile a crooked little smile
humble that i am.
quite, yet not meek i come.

asking questions you long to answer.
applaud your insights to this journey your on.
i see your failures as courageous attempts,
and compliment your strenght to go on.

i speak of the light others miss.
that you always "knew" you'd had,
how funny you say with wonder in your eyes
did i see the you behind the wall.

see i know,
each time you hurt ,
another brick was born.
put in place with lots of pain, your tears cement it in
the message on the wall says "you'll not come here again"

when i come the wall is tall,
but sure i have the key.
i am the soul collector and your waiting for me.
as your trust begans to grow,
from all these things i know,
the you, that used to be
once again starts to glow.

beware my friend for now your mine
although you know it not.
you still believe in white knights
and dream of cabbages and kings.

Child's eyes


Past Present Future

I got up this morning and saw the joy in the child's eyes
I wondered if it will last throughout the child life

It make me so proud to please this child
I wonder if this child will grow up and be proud

At noon, I had fed this child all life could offer
I set this child free, to see what life is going to be

The child returned at the end of the day
And looked at me and began to say,

I have tasted hatred
and that is not what you had fed me
I have tasted jealousy
and that is not what you had fed me

I replied, looking into the mirror,
I fed you love