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Destined


if we can not be all
to become bright
burning like suns, like stars

then what are we made of
what purpose have our yearning hearts

why should I strive to grow
to become more
if in darkness we are bound
grounded to the earth

doomed from the beginning
not destined to depart

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nighttime sounds: an owl in a tree,
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gnarly branches,
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taking residence in my heart

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In silence

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a song upon a breeze
for music has forsaken us
went lost among the trees

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and vanquished all the light
in silence now we just await
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