Hurt runs around 
the house closing
curtains and locking
doors battening down 
certain of storms
pulling me down 
deeper into cellar
waiting and waiting 
and hearing none 
hope jumps to
feet throwing open 
windows and doors 
saying look here 
nothing to fear
it’s all clear 
come on hurt
live a little 

It doesn’t matter 
how far you’ve 
come or how 
far there’s left
to go what 
matters is that 
you are here
for then and
when means little 
if your here
is patently unclear 
each and every 
place that you’ve 
ever been or
ever will be 
is the start

It’s not 
the man 
who looks 
down and 
laughs but 
lifts up 
and lauds
for only 
those who 
we elevate 
will see
the path
to Heaven 
and there
too will
we walk 

Give back
pay forward 
count blessings 
think ahead 
be present 
these things 
are kindness 
in action 
and prosperity 
in abundance 
think not 
of yourself 
for Heaven 
belongs to 
those who 
can and 
always will 
for others 

I’ve been aware
of this for
a long time 
and this that
I am aware
has framed me 
like a painting 
and within these
four pieces of 
wood I live 
love and write 
someday maybe soon
or maybe later 
I will be 
hung on some 
wall at the 
end of the 
hall and glanced 
at as an 
afterthought but never 
will I ever 
be displayed in 
a gallery for 
I’m not art
but simply oil
and canvas and 
someone else’s imagination