There is
a silver 
lining to
every single 
cloud but
you frequently 
have to 
stand in
the middle 
of the 
storm to 
see it

Early morning peace
basks in dawn 
far off peaks
softly blush crimson 
snow reflecting sky
like bicycle reflectors 
hovering just above 
a white band
bleeds into blue 
like delicate watercolors
waiting to dry
this sky changing 
slipping off its 
evening gown into 
dowdy daily wear 

I spy upon
a potpourri a
hodgepodge of new 
juxtaposed against ancient 
the student and 
teacher of city
and of mountains 
two separate empires 
one of earth
and one of 
dreams both though
stretching to sky
one promises though 
to remain there 
long before and
long after the 
other is gone 

I am empty
emptier and emptiest
having already been 
now just empty 
absent and quiet 
with nothing left 
to prove or 
to say calm
and quiet peaceful 
listening to time 
slow to crawl 
watching day break 
and night fade
I sit in
this empty bowl 
wondering what next 
will fill it 

To unwind 
to separate 
and lay
out flat 
to untangle 
to discover 
and remove 
to cull
to peel 
then chop 
these things 
I have 
of every 
single day 
with you 
trying to 
understand where
when what 
it was 
that it
was then
no more 
or matter