There is more…

The miracle of the brook right next to me.
The shadows of branches on this page speaks.
The abundance of water travels
over and around any rock or impedance
under trees and shrubs,
glinting in the sun it cannot stop.

It carries the words
of a thousand years
and moments that mattered like mine.
Shall I sing to the brook while I wade in the water
until all is the chorus of time?

It is a clean brook.
It will find the ocean,
once more become the rain
that falls in the canyon
fills up the flowers
and sings for another again.

I used to pick up
heart-shaped rocks on my path.
I leave them be
for someone else to find and take home

Poem about vision.

Every brick in Manhattan
was laid by a man
who worked for his dreams to come true
Every ship on the ocean
and train on this land
has hope riding on with the crew.

And what if all fortunes
were never be made
and roads never leading to Rome?
Would buildings be built
and highways be paved
If kings never quested their throne?

So if ever they tell you
to stop what you’re doin’
cause dreams can be reached anymore
Say, reality may
have me dying in bed
but dreams get me out of the door.

A carrot, they say,
keeps the donkey persuaed’
to trot for a mile through the glade
He never looks back
and keeps pulling the hack
though the carrot keeps going away.



Who would want
These tears to ever dry?
Like rivers
They roll down my face
Struck with a symphony
of blessings
I stand
unable to speak
incapable of thought
Shattered by the way you love me.

I now love
everyone I see
For I see them as part of you.
My lucky stars
shine down from straight overhead.

I shout with my heart back home:
I made it!
I didn’t have to die this time
I see you from the other side
and I still have
Years left to live…

So grant me nothing more
than what I’ve had –
I would have had my day.
But grant me more and I will live
to give the miracle away.



am having
the beset midlife crisis
And why not?
It is a crisis
when you discover
how little could be left
of time
to do so much
How many waterfalls
How many eyes
to stare into
Hands to touch
Hearts to hold
I am dancing
I fly like a sail
on the wind of a life
not lived yet
not drunk to the bottom

Crisis? What crisis?
I am living my life again.



Keys treeIf I am uncertain
of who I am
I play music.
I am not the music
I am the one who listens
In the notes I hear my home,
like the scent of Jasmine
in the summer wind.

Music is not who I am
it is where I am
as if, on my path in life,
I have come upon this magnificent view
And I have no need
to go any further for a while.

Music plays me
in its longing for the light.
I am never alone when I play –
for the spirits listen also
They come so close.
We breathe the same air,
share the same visions
and we listen together
in grace.

Nothing to say.

francis1I have nothing more to say
and it’s been that way for a while
I have kept on talking
to keep you by my side

But I really have
nothing more to say.

Can I stop?
Could I maybe listen
What would I hear
without myself trying to speak?
What would I write
I I could only read?
Where would I be
without trying to be seen?
If I wasn’t
A voice,
an opinion,
a talent,
an offering of some sort,

What would be left
I don’t know
But its walking
down the path with me.
And when I really
Have nothing more to say,
I will see…