MontyCaldwell

Forgiveness is an energy child;
one I can’t seem to satisfy;
and so I remain, much reviled;
lacking the words to reply.

All of life is a matter of perspective;
strictly from the eye of beholder;
perception of some; strictly invective;
at least, until they’re much older.

Anger

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I feel so empty and all alone;
a balloon with all the air let out;
my home is no longer a home;
and purpose, I’m living without.

What purpose is life’s quest for me?
Reality seemed to divest me of care.
Life is theater, I don’t

I was simply sitting: relaxed in my chair;
suddenly it seemed like reality was faxed;
tho my awareness was found, elsewhere;
I was no longer feeling relaxed.

A bizarre moment; most unsettling;
seemingly exposing another dimension;
much like, with reality, I’d been meddling;
and reality had changed into my

I feel the gentleness of your breeze;
and the wisdom that lies within;
energies embody and accompany;
that I often dismiss as mere whim.

The cool air, soothing my brow;
bids your awareness come in;
though not understanding how;
all seeds of knowledge begin.

Wisdom is conveyed by the breeze;

Time and space were fighting a war;
and time had the upper hand;
space had no place for time to fight for;
but time didn’t require the land.

The universe had space always looming;
but time kept marching on;
time’s armies; space kept consuming;
as time brought in

I washed my face with tears of sorrow;
then washed it again with tears of joy.
How can I learn to face tomorrow;
with new purpose I need to employ?

Which of these tears were tonic;
ones which replenished my soul?
It seemed more than a bit ironic;
both tears

I started out with much protection;
floating in my mother’s womb
I had no sense of spatial direction;
much like being in a tomb.

When I was born, I was floating again;
trying to learn this world’s basics;
something about this world was arcane;
I found myself swimming