night descends
maybe
maybe not

and i turn off
the lights
and rest

if sleep evades
then the 'dreams'
are of my choosing

if sleep comes
when sleep comes
where do my dreams come from?

and how do i react
to those random dreams
or are they really random

who
or what
chooses

and more
importantly
WHY?

life returns
grass that was brown
now is green

trees that were
bare, skeletons
leaves have returned

goslings, baby woodchucks appear
running, eating, playing
their parents watching

my soul
after a winter's nap
begins to awake

night is upon me
the body is tired
the eyelids heavy
but the mind
the mind
refuses to cooperate

it spins
like a whirling dervish
over many years
and much practice
i can control
my physical form

but with my best effort
complete control
of my mind eludes me
in fact, at times
i have no control over it
at all...........[sigh]

i decided
long ago that
i would not
conform

i would not
follow the path
that others
set for me

did i make mistakes
absolutely
but it was my
choice

for better
or worse
i accept my
responsibility

no one
other the me
is
responsible

i accept what
I've become
not always 'pretty'
but it is 'me'

would i change a thing
obviously but
my choice and
my pain but
my joy

ghosts
from the past
not ghosts
but friends/enemies
from the
distance past

memories
i thought
long dead
buried
gone
lost for ever

but resurrection
theologically
a good concept
but with memories
definitely
a mixed bag

old friends
old peeps
i knew
who probably
don't remember me
and some that i
don't remember
but they do me

and then there is
adolescents
frankly
much of it
i would rather
forget
but sadly
can't

were we foolish
or just learning
to learn...........

yesterday
had
way too
many

today
way too
many of
those

tomorrows
how
many
not sure

my point
i can only
live for
today

The leaves of fall lay on the ground
As I rake, I’m reminded of my past
Like pages of a tattered book
They lie around me as the leaves

Some brightly colored
Some dingy and old
Some forgotten
Some remembered

Some remembered
That would be best forgotten

I rake them in piles
No order
The good with the bad
All in a pile

I bag them
For the trash
But in my haste
A few escape

But whether
To trouble
Or to cheer
Ah there’s the question

Job’s done
For another year

[one of the first poems i posted online....but is worth a second look]

Why

Oh why

Is it?

When I am at my lowest

Physically

It seems that my muses

Are

At their highest level

It seems that when strength evades me

My mind and the spiritual

Are at their

Apex

[a re-post of a poem i wrote about 10 years ago]

i now 
understand
it's only thru
pain
suffering
distress
that truth
and beauty 
can be seen
and 
understood