In youth,

I sought others,

To not feel alone. …

My thoughts,

Often pile up.

I cannot escape, …

Home.

Where I belong.

Or so I often thought. …

When life,

Presents me with signs,

Clear and visible, …

I often think of her,

Passing those streets,

The same old trees, …

Perhaps it’s there,

High in the mountains,

Lost in silence, …

I looked outside,

At the half-covered sky,

Wondering if the clouds, …

The distant mountains stared,

At the open grassy lands,

And wonder why man, …

On days,

When I feel old and cracked,

Wondering how the years, …

Days when life,

Seems to flow sideways,

As expectations loudly echo, …

I listen to the words,

Then stare in silence,

Pondering what to believe. …

I awoke,

To a seeming peculiar sky.

Hazy, …

Driving home,

I stared at the landscape,

Drifting by. …

It is liberating,

To leave chance behind.

Whether first, …

Man-made structures,

Often appear harmonious,

Precise and complete. …

There once lived,

Two identical squirrels,

By a quiet farm field. …

I felt empty,

Somewhat sad,

Leaning against the car, …

When they were young,

I could tell them what to do.

Now I can only plant seeds, …

I find life,

Hard to live.

Despite the many blessings, …

The sky,

Threatened to roar.

Where the road led, …