I open my hand Allowing the world to spill out Onto the ground In shards of brokenness And heartache Bitterness And self-deprecating antics- Some say there’s always hope But some things aren’t worth hoping for So,I carry on. I open the other hand And welcome…

Land and sea, I traveled. Three lifetimes of laying foundations among the clay, with clay covered hands, far from shifting sands and tidal waves. My hand to the plow, my heart intent to see the bloom of change among the walking dead. But all efforts…

There is no profound in a three-minute pop song unless it is playing when everything goes wrong Nothing makes memories quite like emotion the music is but illustration it’s just that the words hit you in the same place as your feelings The catalogue may…