The Giver

Of a past
Forgotten, buried
Or perhaps a future
Yet to be…

Swirl and dance
Drift below
Muffle the ground
Like piled snow

Grab your sled
Hurry up, come on
There’s something there
Something not yet begun
Can you taste the colors and the sounds
Everywhere… they cover the ground

Too many for just one
Bent and broken soul
Too many for two as well

S o   r e l e a s e . . .

Let them drift
Let them fly
Let them billow
Fill the sky

Memories bring joy
Memories bring pain
But in the end
There is wisdom to gain
So catch the snowflakes
Before they turn to rain

Wednesday Wisdom: M. C. Escher


Which reality is actually more powerful:

that of the present, instantly absorbed by our senses and discernible,

or the memory of what we experienced previously?

Is the present truly more real than the past?

I really do not feel capable of answering this.

–  M. C. Escher  –

Journal, 19 January 1945

WIP Excerpt

WIP excerpt time! Over the last week, I’ve been doing a lot of timelining (yes, that is officially now a word) and outlining. My hope is that a strong foundation and history will cause the story to unfold more naturally. But for now, allow me to introduce the Chameleons:

He threw back his head and laughed. “You expect us to know who the Chameleons are and where they came from? This only we know for sure: they are a people obsessed with the mind, and eaten alive by their own memories. Whatever their past, whatever their origin, it was awful enough for them to have one desire—to forget. They manipulate memories; the minds of the living are their playgrounds. Only they know what has befallen them, but they have chosen to forget. Even if there were one of their own to speak up, to tell the tale, and to unveil the mystery… how could we know for sure whether it be true or false? It could just as easily be a falsified memory. They have collapsed so far inward that they no longer trust each other, or even themselves. That is why they use The Protection—why they resort to those they would deem as “lesser” in their quest to decipher the old technologies. Their great power has become their undoing—they fear themselves, and what they have created.”

The Warrior’s Sacrifice



You emerged alive

You offered your life

In pain and strife.


A simple thank you

Does not suffice

For the gratefulness

Cherished inside.



Danger every day

You cleared the path

You paved the way.



You gave yourself

Stood in the breach

Passed through hell.


What else can I say?

What else can I do

But shake your hand with

Teary eyes and a thank you.

Death is Not Death

Originally penned on January 1st, 2013, in honor of Glenn Wilkinson. Dedicated to Bill Reese. Shared in memory of Harry Russell, who went to be with the Lord today.

Red Sunset

Death is not death:

The grave is not the end;

We who are in Christ

will someday meet again.


Your eyes gently close;

You breathe your last;

Then you see glory—

all else has passed.


We mourn now you’ve left;

You walk here no more;

But death is not death—

You walk with our LORD.


Through all these tears

our souls are still glad;

You’ve risen to glory

where no heart is sad.


We look forward,

we eagerly wait

for when the LORD calls

or ‘tis end of days.


Death is not death:

The last page is done;

Some might think defeat—

We see a battle won.


Death is not death:

The clouds roll away;

All is clear as silver glass;

All dissolves into glorious day.


Farewell for now—

This is not the end.

We shall someday

meet again.

Take Me Back…







Take me back, take me back

Take me back in time

To the day that we held hands

And your heart was mine.


Take me back, take me back

To swim in the sky

Where we laughed until we cried

And there were never any sighs.


Take me back, take me back

Into the radiant night

Where every star held a wish

And our heavy souls were light.


Take me back, take me back

To the ocean deep

Where we danced with all the fish

And they taught us how to breathe.


… take me back.