If something good can come from bad,

the past can rest in peace.

But they just keep moving line

the closer it gets, the harder the climb

I say I can go the distance

But how long is it?



Solomon calls all things emptiness, just vanity.

So what if I had it all?

Would it be enough? Would I smile wide as the noonday sun?

If the race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong,

if food comes neither to the wise nor wealth to the brilliant

or favor to the learned;

Will I leave all to chance?


The past refuses to stay buried

choosing instead to dance over every grave

daring demons long banished from the world of the living to life

the sounds of a broken record

I turn the page, but it is marked by shadows of what’s been written

on the previous page



Caught in the storm of life

Hounded by smoke screens

I am the wreckage.