Notebook

Rita My Love,  The lowly sun bows to the grace and glacé your skin So soft to touch, Too smooth to smooch Your eyes too expressive to adore May the man see the last thing in his life  The life too challenged to may my love Let me speak of you  See the shine, See the depth it beholds.    

Why do I feel  Why do I feel I lack something Why do I think the way I choose is not the right one After even knowing that's the wrong one Why am I sad about not knowing the right one Why worry about the people you love Why is always a bright day and a sunny sky, a sad funeral Why not see and be the truth.

Oh lord. Give me the strength to respect all kind,  Give me sight to not look for the dark side of the moon, Give me the strength to hold me fine, For I seek too to not long that goon.

                                    The art of facing the good in everything is a good one, the good man deeds and demands the persistence of having one. The art of blaming and choosing to point the finger away is the easiest one, the coward enjoys it, the wise fears one. The art of sustenance of calm  and the belief in goodwill of man is the toughest one,  for I a mere disciple of faith face the challenge. For I a mere man of trust face the brunt (?) But the man I am, chooses to stay in the path for I have no other way to reach the longed.