One day, I found a wrinkled note

A worn page torn from ancient books

The ink has run, the white page gold

With age, and lined like elder brows

In hand, I take the ends and fold
Together, edges meet at last

Like long lost friends returned once more

Or lovers sharing one last kiss

Or parents wrapping in embrace

A once-lost child returning home
Again, I fold and shape and hide

The ugly wrinkles of the past

Give way to neater, newer lines

The page transforms into a plane

A tiny thing upon my hand
I cast it out into the wind

It struggles like a newborn bird

But it takes wing and soars so high

It disappears into the clouds

Who knows what message it once bore
But one last journey, one last flight

And one last glimpse of bluest sky

Is all I can provide, and nothing more



To make a difference starts

With change, deduction, and

Subtraction. Children’s math. 

Removal of excess

Shall brew a new success

A purging of unkind

Behavior and of thoughts

Of jealousy and hate

May not a better world create

Perhaps instead a peaceful mind

To start with is enough


Within this mess, connections lost

And severed, trusted lines once strong

Lay broken, stained with tears. To plunge

Into this fray of vines, neglect

Upon its withered face, is brave
For there is courage when a brave

Does tangle with this jungle’s net

For broken bonds grow wild and free

And seek a sturdy tree to rest
This task to trim this mess is grim

But growth requires love and care

At times, a willingness to tear

And shape to beauty what remains


This stone I dare possess

What tales, what mysteries

Abide within its walls?

Perhaps it has preserved

A single moment, stretched

Into infinity

Or all the wondrous world

Imprisoned for all time

And all the endless stars

Reflect upon its face

This orange beacon shines

Like chapel window glass

That catches rosy dawn

Or brilliant, setting sun