Changing Seasons Colors no longer rhyme Stark Contrast Between what is and what will be.
I can’t quite believe Be it luck or be it fortune No matter how it begins It always ends the same. Ethics wins out over any profit There is no gain in a corrupted conscience Pure art is healing for the soul As anointing with oil for a cause.
Once thought so clear It seemed so straightforward If only I walked the path There would be no trouble, no pain. I’ve walked the path Pain and Trouble Abound Conflict raises its hand War is unavoidable to keep walking the same road. What once seemed so clear Now appears so muddled What once was soContinue reading “The Mystery”
I can hardly believe it, but after a long summer of smoke in the west, the beginnings of colors in the trees are hinting at the arrival of Fall.