LET THE LIGHT IN

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My mind is foggy today.

I need to clear the cobwebs.

Throw out the excess garbage.

The bad thoughts.

The worries.

All to the wind.

And think of a pretty place.

Where the birds chirp and play.

Where the mountains soar high.

Where windows bring in the light.

I can lift my face to the sun.

To the beauty of life.

To the smell of grass.

To the puffy white clouds.

I’m there right now.

Come and join me.

COLD

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The snow melts,

leaving trails to the lake.

A cold wind brushes by,

leaving me goosebumps.

Ice hangs from the trees,

leaving clear spider webs.

Snow covers the grass,

leaving footsteps behind.

I depart this cold scene,

leaving my own behind.

 

THE DEAD TAKE NO PRISONERS

A light glows from the gazebo.

Chanting floats on the howling wind.

Lit candles form a circle inside.

A body dangles in their midst,

swaying in the increasing winds.

Dark figures circle the body.

Their hands raised in prayer.

The Dead Game has begun.

THE DEAD GAME

GOODBYE

 

TO BE FREE

I want to be free.

I need to be free.

To fly far away.

Above all else.

To soar high above.

To peer down. 

Through the mighty clouds.

Upon all else.

My wings are spreading.

My head held high.

Feathers to the wind.

Face to the sun.

Goodbye to all.

Goodbye to the mundane.

Goodbye to the everyday.

Goodbye to all else.

IT SITS ALONE IN THE GARDEN

 

How sad is this statue?

Tears dripping down its body.

It sits alone in the garden.

A heart frozen to its core.

 

Its eyes closed in sadness.

For a savior long and gone.

It sits alone in the garden.

Waiting for help from beyond.

 

Tears fall ever so slowly.

Freezing close to the ground.

It sits alone in the garden.

Its silent sighs in the wind.

 

It bows its head in prayer.

For a savior not found.

It sits alone in the garden.

No one else around.

 

A SHACK IN THE WOODS

 

A simple shack in the woods.

Army of trees at its back.

Mossy green carpets the front.

Its shingles creak in the wind.

A loose shutter swings back and forth.

A dying fire smokes inside.

Embers fall on the still bodies.

Red trails surround them.

The fire flickers one last time.

Dark descends upon the shack.

A simple shack it’s no more.

THE OLD HOUSE

The old house stands alone,
dark and deserted,
on the overgrown lawn.
A wind rustles through the fallen leaves.
The only sound in the dead silence.
No footsteps to break the quiet.
No sounds of life to lift the spirits.
Only the dead for company.
Their spirits walk the house.
No footsteps to break the quiet.
For the dead don’t leave footprints.

DIFFERENT

 

I stand alone under the stars.

Alone on the purple carpet.

Gazing off into the distance.

Waiting for others like me.

Ones who grow stronger in the wind.

Who lift their leaves to the sun.

Who aren’t afraid to be different.

Come and join me.

We will grow true and green.