Cold Night

The bleak and piercing cold
Makes my bones feel old.
Misery untold.
Finding nothing warm,
Try to do no harm,
By raising no alarm.
Stumbling in the black,
Fall flat on my back.
Brace for the attack.
For a helping hand,
I dare not to demand.
But yet I cannot stand.
Lost without a friend.
The world my soul to rend.
This must be the end.
Such a state of mind,
To be so fully blind
And think life so unkind.
Despite the worst of men,
Though shiv'ring in my den,
The sun will rise again.

Authorship

To type the words upon the page,
A monstrous undertaking.
Though quickly done in this our age,
My pace is slow and breaking.
Creating worlds of wrath and woe,
I wish to tell a story.
Of battle with a mighty foe,
And throes of human glory.
Though vivid pictures fill my mind,
My hands grow tired and weighted.
I seek a place in humankind,
My deeds all celebrated.
I can't go on; my head, it aches,
My wrists are sore; I stumble
O'er plots, and twists, and where to take
My hero 'fore I crumble.
Press on, press on, I hear one say.
Let not your dream unravel.
'tis soon you'll wake and find the day
When to those heights you've traveled.
The voice is mine, my heart and soul
Wage war against my sadness.
I cannot fail to reach my goal,
E'en if it leads to madness.
So fly, my fingers, soar, my words.
Break through the limitations.
Paint skies and men and tales unheard.
Unleash imagination.

Mysterious Ways

I strain to hear the sounds of joy and love,
But all I hear is thunder in my head.
I hope to find a message from above,
Yet all the trust in self from me is bled.
We turn to earthly loves for reassurance,
Put trust in our possessions for our rest.
A useless salve for sinful convalescence,
Attempting to avoid our wrongs confessed.
A laugh, a gift, a word from friend or brother
Is oft the last thing left for us to cling to.
We wish for God to rend the clouds asunder
And write the course of action we must see to.
But who's to say that word or deed of kindness
Is not from God? We miss it in our blindness.