I must be blessed to be so depressed

after all, where would we be without our dismantled


so little of what's yet to come has my soul even

remotely guessed

so much will be handed over so to appease

every even simple sadness deserves its own private


just as every seed aspires to bloom into a breathtaking


at each sharp turn in my quiet and cool remorse

I come down hard upon my numbered weakness with

near inhumane force

still, a long since dying hope manages to take yet another

even painful breath

defying the grimmest reality by slipping by another

prone body of unrequited death

demanding loud and strong that my foolish eyes open

up wide to the truth

it almost eagerly informs me that everything was not lost

long after my youth

if love had a physical face just whom or what would it most

likely resemble

an unconditional mother standing over a for thought

or a hole infested blood filled thimble

some things in this life are unnecessary to fix or

infinitely assemble

yet, why when I daringly delve into such deep pools

of ponder do my hands quite noticeably tremble

since I can no longer with this bruised and troubled

truth pretend to continue

I'll leave the outcome of the yet to be known

answers entirely up to you...........

( written July 1, 1992 am)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

trying to self explain why I think so deeply about things sometimes.

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