I believe that good things can grow where there once was dry ground. As long as a man has one breath left in him, there can be renewal. There is always hope…
I have
Stood too long
In the
Doorway
Planning my
Escape or
Entrance
Wheels turning
Thoughts churning
Contemplating a
Painful past and
Hazy future
Too many
Words
Time for
Silence
My fingernails
Have cut my
Skin from the
Clenching of
Fists
Clinging to my
Will has
Cost me my
Sanity
There is an
Offer on the
Table
Serenity beckons
If I will
Allow my fields
To be
Plowed
If I will just
Surrender
My will wrestles
Itself free
For one last
Plea
Casts the
Fear net
Over my
Eyes
And for a
Moment I
Trust it
Futility
I have made a
Mess
Splattered the
Milk
On the
Pristine floor
Then ground
It in with
Muddy boots
God beckons
With no heavy
Sighs or
Force
But with alluring
Quiet
And the
Promise
I will
One day find
Beauty
In my
Disaster