Human Gutters

Middle-aged and well traveled in the trenches of human gutters; he wept through his story of hopelessness and despair. He cried over the loss of his soul.

He asked if it would ever get better. He asked if he would ever know peace within himself. He asked if he would ever again find dignity. He asked if he could ever again know love.

That night, he would destroy the most precious of gifts. He would pinch out the flame on the candle of his life.

I’ll always wonder what more....

Heart-words

Be it good, or be it bad, I write from my heart. My muse dwells there.

My brain thinks, my heart feels. Topics come from my brain; the words come from my heart.

For the past many weeks my brain has said, “Pull words from your heart and put them on your blog”.

For the past many weeks I have opened my heart in search of those words. Most often, I’ve reached in and found only crumbs.

Be it good, or be it bad, I write from my heart. My muse dwells there.

My heart is empty now; no words to blog are there.