Shadows

In the dark of day
watching shadows play
at the edges of my mind
i ponder all the eons
of the time
I wake and walk
away the hours
wondering how
God makes the flowers
to exist, simply exist
their purpose served
their duty done
no wandering thoughts
after setting sun

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Being First

What is it about being first
that paints the picture of a day
That drives the nail
that seals the coffin
to wait for judgement day?
What is the reason for despair
when others go ahead
and leave the first one
feeling filled with dread?
Somehow the boat is missed again
as anchor pulls away
and the first stands silently screaming
watching the tide once more recede
holding life at bay.

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