To get to the end you have to start at the beginning

And more than anything I know

This is not the beginning of the end but the end of the beginning

Or somewhere through it, nevertheless

I’m not done, not nearly done yet



The seasons and the light out are in for a change

The scenery shifts and bends against its edges

If you look close enough it signals

If you hear intently it speaks



Until you see, until you listen to your… Continue

I liked the way you kept to yourself

The handiwork and workings of your head

How you captured the streaking winter skies

And filtered them through your pen

I can only with to say the things I can’t aloud

Scribble out in tongues and then make sense of it



Is it even necessary?

Why must it all make sense?

What makes meaning such a vital part of ourselves?



So I watch you, I ask myself



You took the crisp air of morning

And with… Continue