The Writer

As I sit quietly, the world will be as it is
My words upon this page
Decorate the spaces between my thoughts

Truth rests between lies, rarely noticed
Unbound, unearthed they grow
Buried too long, they will not be denied

Pages reflecting what I am
More than an image, without cracks
The true one who writes

The pen moves in silence
Looking from the mirror
Watching the one in the dark

Stoic Poetry

The Keeper

On the land, silence wallows.
Bid goodnight where I stand,
peace will reign for a while,
till another day is at hand

And I am not the keeper
of no one, but this myself.
Where is the burden of guilt?
doing for others than yourself?

Much too righteous to sully, 
staying above the fray
while other fall for others.
Listen not to the words they say.

Stoic Poetry

Out Of Sight

If I only knew, but I may never
A search without knowing what is lost
Just beyond a grasp, a touch
Always a single step behind
Longing to see, no matter the cost

The missing piece, the last of many
A puzzle within a riddled mind
Just a glimpse, to understand
What lies beneath this Illusion
The truth, lies within, for each to find

Stoic Poetry