Degrees

Driving in snow is never fun, but it does appeal to my adventurous side. It is painfully beautiful outside. 35 degrees. Cold, quiet, calm. I sit in my car, running down the battery. Soaking in the music. I hope the neighbors don't mind the volume. This is too good to be played low. It's as delicious and moving as the silence of tonight. I watch the snowflakes fall slowly down, fluttering in the lamplight. They look a lot like the moths fluttering around the lamplight out in the desert. I miss the clean smell of the desert. But I like the cold. It tightens my skin. Makes my flesh feel leather-like. Like impenetrable armor. Maybe, maybe I can live here. Perhaps even thrive.

Masks

Take a good look in the mirror
What you see, is it pure?
Is love all that you hold dear to you
Or is it hatred that you're closest to?

Those who are organized, even at all costs
Are they really just forgotten and lost?
Those who are called monsters, are they gentle within?
Maybe they neglect to wear a mask when the show begins

Those with a dark heart must wear a mask so it won't be seen
But now they are made fun of and treated mean
They find that their life has been made even worse
But they can't help it: the mask is our curse


The scars on my hands are easy to see
But the scars that are real are inside of me
Those are the scars that will tear me down
But I'll just put on a mask and act like a clown


Beware if you are pure of heart
You will be hurt: wear a mask if you're smart
You won't make it far, safely, if you have a loving soul
So be sure to put on a mask and act like a troll

Everybody in the world wears masks, much to our surprise
'Tis a shame we are too blind to see it, much to our demise
So if you feel that you're losing your mind
Just put on a mask. Now you're nice, sweet, and kind

To Last Is First

There is a trial by fire for all that is proven
And you have found false all that you believe in
For you cannot have 'til you have given
You can't search without having not searched within

For every soft touch comes a harsh blow
There are no highs without the lows
You cannot forget until you know
You cannot burn until you've froze

You shall watch your loved ones suffer
And there's nothing you can do but to wait
For you cannot find courage 'til you've been a coward
You're not the catcher if you take the bait

As you rejoice for defeating an enemy
You find that now you must defeat a friend
And you try to take comfort in knowing
That for every beginning there must be an end

You cannot win until you've lost
You will not smile before you've cried
You cannot love until you've hated
You will not live before you've "died"

We all must crawl before we can walk
Integrity is the spawn of boldness and fear
We must learn to listen, then learn to talk;
There must be silence for one to hear

You can't appreciate the souls about you
Until you appreciate that of your own
And if you weep because these words ring true
Then you know you've truly grown

May the Rain Cleanse the Pain

Life, write vague, one page at a time
Shape your mask carefully but quick
To expose your nude soul is a crime
Drink your sorrow, though it makes you sick

Expect the worst, hope for the best
Pray for your wants, work for your needs
Life's as much a game as a test
Nurture your hope: it's a good deed

Whistling an unknown pretty tune
To dull the monotony of the day
Both death and life come too soon
And you can neither hide nor run away

On the mountain you must summit
You can't in one bound reach the peak
And halfway up you can't just quit
'Though you may choose to freeze for weeks

Everyone tries to conceal their crimes
Done unto themselves throughout the hours
Portraying their sadness as if they are mimes:
Never speaking; only crying in their showers

Rarely ourselves we see or spy
And then, only in water-filled holes
So we act out life through others' eyes
Worn thin, our masks reveal our skulls

Off the path we often stray
To show we, alone, on life have hold
Shaped by sand, we were born as clay
Life's giant hands, us, form and mold

Our hardness comes not from the sun's bliss:
Upon us, dry, rough hands our moisture drains
Only to inflame the festered rawness;
Continue rubbing away our gritty grains

Rough, soiled hands leave us dirty and dry
Entrenched with cracks and bloody stains
So, facing the zenith, we all cry:
"May the rain cleanse our pains!"

Heroic

The old man's eyes found mine as he cocked his head.
There was a pause as he selected what riddle next to ask.
His voice rang out like that of a church bell as he said
The words that would be the denouement of his task:

"What figure makes the difference in the number 1,000,000?
Of this I give you no clue. On your own your must decide."
I carefully contemplated. Was it the one, the zero--NONE?
I mused at length so that my answer wouldn't provoke him to chide.

After considering, I replied: "The number one, I wot."
He smirked and snuffed, exclaiming: "What! Without the zeros?
Nothing will exist if you seek it not;
To BELIEVE in the heroic makes heroes.

"All the figures are significant, to a degree, in the million.
That is the point to all this...lecturing, my friend--
That without the zeros behind it, one million would be one.
But without that one, NO number would stand in the end."

Question

Why put off until tomorrow
All what that you may do today?
All that we could give or borrow
Is now absently thrown away

What you start today, tomorrow
-rather than blurred thoughts at play
Could be done and through and thorough
But if you'd started yesterday

What I said I'd do tomorrow
Alas, I now must do today
My face is all frown and furrow;
I should have started yesterday!

We could foil much pain and sorrow
If just we wouldn't stop and stay
The problem 'tis this: tomorrow,
It is always a day away