The only thing I knowOf all things that changeSo much will goBut only hope is not slain It may change form,Just like each season.Sometimes almost dormant,Like hope is retreating. As if to challenge me,And touch under my skin.Questions of why things be…And where to re-begin Start over now?!I still haven’t finished!Why not take that last

The beginning of these words,Is an end to a thought.A moment disturbed…Is a start AND a halt. A time to exchangeThe flow of give and takeIf one were to engage…Somewhere else provides a break. Does the seed die?…Bringing life to a tree.Or something that will rise?…By becoming less free. Planted in one spot…But able to

Moments…Tick, tick, tick.But the feeling is…Tick-tick-tick-tick, tick, tick. The time is wasting.It is. But while it is wasting…It is waiting.Waiting for you…To get right. It is okay to relax.It is okay to be.Just being…Is okay. It is resting for the time.Preparing during the waste…Is the wait for the great. Others can not do this.Because they