The deeper we get into
the idea of what’s real,
the further away we become
Trying to put our formulas
into a box,
is folly zero sum
Like the horizon before you
that you see but can’t touch,
the truth forever disguised
Its costume to change
with every reason we claim
—only the search bringing meaning to the wise
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Bookends
Bookends of a dream
—the beginning and ending of tomorrow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
One Last Hope
He climbed the edge
Of uncertainty,
Ever upward
The fall so high
At the height of his
Desperation,
Plunging into regret
And sorrows tide
Hitting his last
Tomorrow,
Broken feelings
Left to drown
One last hope
The flow would wash him,
Into the pool
—of knowledge found
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
The Open Door
Death at its zenith,
the other side of life’s goodbye
Eternity waiting patiently,
to welcome us inside
Always the dark misnomer,
we hold in dread and awe
When really it’s an open door
—to all we’re searching for
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
The Elusive Ghost
Can you be conscious
without being self conscious,
philosophers disagree
Being aware of your
awareness,
seems logical to me
But logic has its
failings,
as we pierce the inner mind
Perception,
the most elusive ghost
—and hardest to define
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Sublimity
Do I think I believe,
or believe that I think
Are they both the same thing,
a pen with two inks
Does one include faith,
and the other just mind
Or are they conjoined
—symbiosis sublime
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
The True Story
Are you a conscious Poet
with unconscious beliefs
An eternity of verse
crying out from your sleep
Are your dreams more important
than your waking hours show
Do they tell the true story
—of all there is to know
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)