There comes a time
In every man’s life
When growing from sapling
To tree from trying
To doing and from
Student to teacher only
He knows when it’s
Time to push out
To bud then shade
And eventually fall only
To start over again
Until he becomes something
Else a door floor
Or even a memory
I find such comfort
Amongst the simple things
Words which mean nothing
Until strung together like
Beads on thoughts string
And then worn gaily
Complimenting even the dourest
Of days bringing color
Sometimes hermit sometimes shaman
Oftentimes swimmer frequently bather
Always thinking never knowing
I undress each day
And dip myself in
Words languid pond or
Witness dawns day of
Images and imagination conjuring
Spirits of my past
And my present into
These things called poems
And like a prairie
Oak I see you
Full of promising comfort
Standing there far off
A tower of plain
Providing me my respite
From the heat of
Life from the rain
Of despair and the
Cold of my loneliness
Sometimes laying at others
Shading once or twice
Huddling offering me safety
Leaving you standing there
I do know that
Others also find their
Place with you and
I am but temporary
But for now and
Until I am ready
With you beneath you
I shall stay here
Every fire requires three
Things fuel oxygen spark
So goes loves flame
Fuel is the mind
Oxygen is the soul
Spark is the sex
This fire is the
Only way to survive
This wilderness called life
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 