The hours pass
Like streams of sand
Through a glass
Pressed for time.
Or an empty space
Built on trust
Filled with dust
Blessed with rhyme.
When a word strayed
This world I made
Finally made sense
Except for me
And my pretense.
Where did I think
I’d be
Without all this crass?
Can you feel the grass
Beneath the shade
When we played?
A moment I missed
Chew on this
Stew on that.
What to do
When we knew
The bow was broke
And so are you.
BeLove © 2017

Guy Clark – “Maybe I Can Paint Over That”

My roots are buried in the Dirty South. I grew up learning the importance of God and Southern Charm. I began writing in my late teens mostly through heartbreak and music. I moved out west 15 years ago and live right around the corner from the Fountain Of Youth. Most people refer to it as Lake Tahoe. I play Chef during the day and search for ways to save the world by night, through reading, writing, and believing. I enjoy the side of life that is less abrasive. I look forward to joining you on my quest through Spiritual Sobriety with the Promised Land as our ultimate destination.

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