Near Night

Waves caress the yielding sands
Like two together, holding hands

The sea receives the sun’s last kiss
As gulls cry of forgotten bliss

The tumult that was lately felt
Has faded with the dying day

As night approaches, with its gift
A belle chanson de liberté


(“Near Night” – 10/12/2014)

The Losing Battle

Reality is now.

The Losing Battle

You tell me fighters never ever quit,
And if I won’t, I’ll beat this damned disease.
But I don’t know about that. Not a bit.

I take the time I have to try to squeeze
An extra minute (here or there) of joy;
Because I do not know that I will win.

I’m daily tempted to mock and destroy;
But this I must resist. It is a sin.
You see, maybe, this is what I must face:

That some will wax in life, while others wane.
Reality is now, this time, this space:
The daily, constant company
Of pain