The Artist

 Regardless of the medium you create in,
I think half the battle to being an artist,
is accepting or admitting to yourself
that you are one.

Smile Through Darkness

Morning comes.
Night lingers still.
Force my rise.
Darkness fills.

Each day. Each month. Each year.
Steals more.
My heart. My hope. My soul.
Nothing more. 

Once whole.
Once strong.
Once loved.
Then wronged.

My love. My trust. My truth.
Betrayed.
Confusion. Anger. Bitterness.
Prayed.

Days push on.
Night’s darkness strong.
Smile and lie. Nothing’s wrong.
Not alive. Yet life’s not gone.

Smile on. 
Live the lie.
Judge me not.
When I cry. 

What a Heart Knows

And so the story goes.
And so the days move on.
Another notch this heart knows.
Older, wiser, same old song.

Life throws its sticks.
Life throws its stones.
This heart’s been kicked,
but this soul knows home.

The smile will not fade.
The eyes will still shine bright.
For love is not a grade,
to be measured as wrong or right.

The living risk the loving,
and the living I have done.
Moving on is one’s own choosing.
Wallow in pity, or walk in the sun.

And so this story goes.
Far from being done.
When love is what a heart knows.
It’s the only song that can be sung.

Carry On

Carry on,
and be at peace.

Hear the need around you.
Reach out and lend a hand, and carry on.

Feel the hand that reaches out,
and fill it from your share, and carry on.

See a kindness. Feel some love. Share it from your heart.
Pass it around, and carry on.

Touch those wounded souls,
by opening your heart, and carry on, and be at peace.