Keep believing when others won’t.
Keep fighting while the masses don’t.
Sometimes the strength to keep going
comes from believing when no one else does.
Don’t give up simply because you’re standing alone.
Sometimes, the ones who believe first
are the ones who inspire others to believe later.
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Under the crescent moon I lay,
Staring at its form with dismay,
Stunned in wonderment, lost in a haze,
Thinking of dreams born—and slipped away.
Drawn to the crescent like a cabaret,
Where shadows dance and secrets sway,
In the dead of night, indulge—no secrets to betray,
Sip from the moon like chilled Chardonnay.
Entangle yourself in its silver display,
Let its pale light carry you away,
Embrace the night before it fades into day,
And lose yourself beneath its soft array.
Under the crescent moon I lay,
Staring at its form with dismay,
Stunned in wonderment, lost in a haze—
Dreaming of all that once came my way.
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Gentle words are hard to find,
Especially when we’re mad and blind.
When careless words are quickly spewed,
Broken hearts are left to fester and brood.
Unfortunately, we can’t turn back time,
No matter how we wish to undo the crime.
What’s spoken in anger can linger for years,
Leaving behind sorrow, regret, and tears.
It’s really no secret, after all,
How careless words can make us stumble and fall.
So try really hard to think before you speak,
For once words are spoken, the damage may be deep.
Some wounds can heal, but scars may remain,
A single harsh word can bring lasting pain.
So keep this priceless lesson in mind:
Think before speaking—be gentle and kind.
When anger takes hold and emotions unwind,
Pause for a moment and search for words kind.
For words can be weapons, or healing balm—
Choose them with patience, compassion, and calm.
Gentle words are hard to find,
Especially when we’re mad and blind.
But a little restraint, compassion, and care
Can keep love alive when tensions flare.
I offer to you my chalice,
No longer filled with malice.
Long years have made me callous,
Yet the raven still sits—black and stalwart.
My mind and heart remain in tune,
Like a ballast beneath a rising moon.
Though time has hardened what lies within,
Love still survives beneath the skin.
Deep within my cranium palace,
A flame still burns beyond the malice.
I offer my heart and mind once more,
Without the bitterness I carried before.
So take this chalice I extend,
A vessel of love that knows no end.
And with every verse my soul releases,
I offer you love—and a chalice of peace.
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With open eyes, I gaze,
As passing time creates a haze.
Some things in life leave me unfazed,
While changing norms can leave me dazed.
Life goes on, though we’re often betrayed,
Some relationships bloom, then slowly fade.
Yet whatever your passion, whatever your purpose,
Keep that inner fire forever ablaze.
Through every season, through nights and days,
Keep moving forward through the changing phase.
Never lose sight of the path that you’ve made—
Keep your heart alive, and your eyes open wide,
Always looking, always ready to gaze.
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Extract that love from the start,
Transfuse that nectar to the heart.
Let every drop become so sweet,
A tender rhythm where two souls meet.
End result is sweetness on lips,
A gentle touch, a lingering kiss.
Never a thought about our quips,
Or words that once could make us slip.
Take all the bitterness away,
Leave only what we mean to say.
For love should never lose its art—
Extract that love and feed the heart.
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Why is it when we are dead
That finally we can be read?
Stretched upon that cold table,
No more secrets left to label.
The mortician takes position,
Searching for the final condition.
What brought the body to this place?
What illness left its final trace?
Every scar, each hidden thread,
Tells a story now you’re dead.
They stitch the pieces back together,
Preserving what remains forever.
Embalming fluid fills the veins,
While silence settles over pain.
And now you’ve finally been read—
Every reason you became dead.
Isn’t it strange how life can hide
What death eventually reveals inside?
All the ailments you defended,
All the battles never ended.
Reduced to stillness, like a doll,
While someone else now knows it all.
Why is it when we are dead
That finally we can be read?
No more secrets left to keep,
No more words buried underneath.
The table waits. The room is still.
Death has finished what life could not fulfill.
And there it is, the final thread—
You have now been read.
You have now been read.
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What is your illusion,
A vision that comes and goes?
Perhaps at night, in confusion,
When your restless mind still knows.
Everyone has experienced it,
This mysterious mind-altering flow.
Don’t be afraid to embrace it,
There may be something it wants you to know.
Don’t mistake it for occlusion,
Or something your mind must hide.
Perhaps it’s simply an intrusion
Of thoughts you keep deep inside.
Maybe your mind is creating
A place where your spirit can heal,
Turning confusion into meaning,
Revealing what you truly feel.
So tell me, what is your illusion?
Is it something you fear or pursue?
Perhaps within every strange vision
Lies a piece of the real you.
