We all have things that give meaning to our lives. For me, it's the writing. For my sister, it's her dogs. For my brother and his wife, it's their church. And there's not a whole lot of difference between them.
Men And Their Mountains
by
Will Mayo
Some are men.
Some are mountains.
Some are men that move mountains.
Some are mountains that move men.
Then there are valleys,
the crevice below.
Men have died to know those as well.
Ah, people, you can hate your neighbor, tear your community down to ruins, all in the name of the god you dearly love to praise. But you'll only have to live with yourself in the end. In the end, it all comes home to you.
Forever Illusive
fool's gold
buried
under one end
of a secret rainbow
black and grey
freeing myself
from the eye of the sun
everything now
comes to calm
storms subside
bringing color
to the arch
the light
guides me
to forgotten
fortunes
on the other side
JDCIV
#poetry
It'll be several days before I see people again. I'll take some time to relax, get naked, get that good shower, play with my cat some. People only get in the way after all.
But if I had a hat I'd take it off to my family. They've put up with me a good, long time now. Hopefully, they can put up with me a little while longer.
People. Yeah. Most of my dealings with them are with hundreds and thousands of miles between us. Which is the best way. If I never had to face people again I would. It's a pity life's not that easy...