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lost children

your faces are scheduled in others
for me to see, touch, speak to
shame, guilt, remorse, confusion
i am redundant in my words,
questioning the thought of hope
being abtainable
puts me damned in a personal
everything is lost, but
i have everything
i break...
and if i truly love
somehow it, they 
cannot, will not
only death applys
to the word - forever.

Golden Thread

You have weaved a golden thread
throughout my spirit
starting with type
speaking of time

Across miles of mountains and valleys,
modem lines and with touch
a place was found inside me
so parallel to mine

Late in the night
rocked in the arms of comfort
a connection bonded
that tore through the walls
of time, of the past, of false 
belifes unknown

Now, of the current,
miles of mountains and valleys,
moden lines and type
the golden thread weaves still

finding, behind the walls torn,
a truth deep in my soul.


Healing My Broken Spirit
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Top image is by Dennis Constantino (aka Dika Wolf)

Artwork courtesy of and copyright by Daniel B. Holeman, who invites you to visit his Visonary Art Gallery web site

Background by Dana Lea

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