Through The Cracked Window (Revisited)
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Hurry up before you get too old
Before days grow short
When your blood flows cold
We were never meant to stay
Here and gone is so close
But we will find out one day
We’re all the same, in this game
Not one of us is special
And no one is really to blame
Stoic Poetry
Time is a fickle mistress, stealing life,
Combing the daylight as beggars at night,
Stalking every man with a little knife,
Light from the dark door into the light.
When in a lost moment of idle fault;
I returned to the house in the dark.
The gray deal under the sun’s assault,
To see upon myself some sort of mark.
The old mirror lied within it’s gaze,
The stranger looking back at me,
Gone the vision of my younger days,
As old eyes neglect what they now see.
Stoic Poetry
The freedom to live a happy life,
The future, becomes a glittering string.
Something in the world of one and all,
To be a knight and to be a king.
Now tone your beauty and your silence;
Part for each level of the singing hour,
Swifter I slew Death with last defiance.
Through my spirit, as a budding flower.
Stoic Poetry
When the veil of reality falls away,
Glimpsing darkest depths unknown,
Our minds are open to wonder and fear,
As we stand on the edge, all alone.
The abyss yawns wide beneath our feet,
Dark and endless, swallowing the light,
And we wonder what secrets it conceals,
What creatures lurk in its infinite night.
For those among us who dare to seek,
Who venture forth into the unknown,
This place becomes their domain,
A realm of mystery all their own.
Let us not fear the great unknown,
Nor tremble at the darkest embrace,
For in its depths lies a world of wonders,
A realm of limitless possibility and grace.
And though we may stumble and fall,
And lose ourselves in this lonely call,
We must remember that the journey is worth it,
For it is through the darkness that we find our light.
Stoic Poetry
The mind, a battlefield it seems,
With doubts that gnaw the soul,
A war within ourselves, it teems
And takes a heedless toll.
The thoughts that creep inside our mind
And fill us with unease,
A hindrance to ourselves we find,
A challenge that won’t appease.
The more we strive, the more it grows,
This fear that stifles grace,
A constant hammering of blows,
That dulls our truest pace.
The voice that whispers in our ear,
A toxic sort of friend,
It devours every hope and fear,
And leaves us in the end.
But know that you are strong enough,
To battle these doubts within,
A fighter, full of vibrant stuff,
A warrior set to win.
So when self-doubts come creeping in,
And cloud your inner sight,
Know that you are brimming with
The power of bold might.
Stoic Poetry
I will write you a song, one you may never hear
Where I am there is no sound, no notes to be found
Maybe you will never see me, but I am always here
To those I know I will always hope that love abounds
Lost is always relative, and only a matter of degrees
Maybe we have our feet firmly planted on the ground
Navigating the paths that are laid out before us
Fogetting what lies inside is confused by outter sound
Stoic Poetry
Step out the front door
as a ghost into the fog
where no one notices
The contrast of white on white
walking in the fading light
as angels get a better view
The crumbling difference
between right and wrong
walking in air between the rain
through myself and back again
Stoic Poetry
Let the sky fall down
Silence without a sound
Days falling all around
Weak truths we found
To all pleasure bound
Trapped on this ground
Pretending to be
Open and free
We refuse to see
As we beg and plea
Degree upon degree
Yet too late to flee
Stoic Poetry
There has to be a better way
Than going back and forth
Doing right, doing wrong
Because of how we were taught
Taught by them, who we are
No matter the bumps and bruises
No matter the scars or the pain
Can we simply believe in truth?
Born flawless we can never forget
What you say we are cannot be us
Stoic Poetry
Passing people in the street
I wonder what are their words
Locked deep inside of them
Thoughts never to be heard
Stories they often tell themselves
Poems others will never hear
Phrases and lines and stanzas
Held quietly, silence out of fear
How many poets will never speak
Poetry the world will never read
In a time when judgement is rife
Is a beauty that we most need
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 