Still I seek resurrection
from mold of Christmas...

Seen many hyped up premieres,
events that promised to be...

Never let a day
go by without at least once...

Stumps from drought
scar the park...

Fortune is god's way of teasing us
giving the illusion of happiness...

Your toothbrush charger
Your luggage stand...

Stones set down with seven hundred years accrued
are o’ertaken by trees and newer dogma...

The longer I crawl this earth
the more my pleasures shrink...

Looking back is easier now
don’t have to turn my head...

For youths who survive and win:
may you raise your children...

I do not want to be cuddled
or sheltered by your charms...

Don't think I'm one to recriminate,
each of us must follow our course...