I am a shattered pot, chards of clay. I am a tattered knot, threads of fray.

As I play out his tragedy, I doubt that you're into me. For how could such majesty, seek out mortal intimacy?

Let us go for a walk in the garden. Let us be as we're meant to be.

A Memorial Day poem

I've painted you a picture, a mural complicated...

Embarking on a great ascent to meet you in the high place...

A reflection on John 20: 19-22

Violence you mask as fetish, narcissistic deeds you relish...

A boy, the apple of his Maker's eye...

There's a plan for me, dramatic destiny, of whose eyes do see, isn't clear to me...

Thinking back on what transpired, so much more was once desired...

Three men stood upon the shore, pondering their being, gazing at the vast beyond, groping after meaning...

End, how frightfully fast its coming...

A proud hero receives a surprising reward.

Sitting 'round the table, captivated by the fable, getting wrapped up in the cycle...