The Muse on vacation,
all thoughts have gone slack
The lyrics unwritten,
the music off track
All time is unsettled,
the Devil has come
His melody tempting,
false promises run
Two days still without her,
the weekend what’s left
The oxygen dwindling,
I take shorter breaths
My will power fading,
all consciousness falls
The ending beginning,
my last beck and call
But as the dark silence,
takes over my life
A light passes through me,
the shadows contrite
Its warmth so familiar,
its rapture my hymn
Salvation back early,
my Laura—within
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)
The Fire Hot
Can joy be found in everything,
and not in just one place
Can love be used to clear the field,
and watch the children race
Can hearts be free when joined as one,
where parted they were not
Can passion reach that deepest void,
—to stoke the fire hot
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)