Ache & Absence / Passion & Presence

How does one go back?
To find what your heart longs for, and quickly realize
You can’t have this all the time…

It’s sacred. This ground you stand on is holy.
This dry, cracked ground is the soil of inspiration.

The passion you feel in it’s presence
will only serve to magnify the ache in it’s absence…
And when it returns the ache of absence will
glorify the passion of its presence…

You must have them both…
The passion and ache.
The presence and absence.

Otherwise, your will song will be a bore…
You must have the dance and the dirge…
You must have the dissonance and deliverance…
They are the melody and harmony of all great compositions.

So sit quiet in the absence and let the ache envelop you
In doing so, you will realize that passion is far more present…

A perfect world would not be perfect
without some measure of imperfection…

So let the songs you sing, the poems you write,
the sculptures you craft, and the paintings you paint
deliver a message…
Ache and absence.
Passion and presence.

I Am Winter

The retreat I attended recently has inspired me to write more so I’ve been trying to set aside time each night to be creative. Whether that becomes a song, a story, some prose or poetry I guess I don’t really care. The point is to get my mind into a creative space more often. Here’s a little piece about winter… or maybe seasonal affective disorder… You be the judge. Enjoy!


I am winter.
The skin of my hands is dry and burning,
the bones inside them aching…
My heart and my hope are fixed upon spring,
but everything around and within
is cold and dark and ultimately lonely.

I am winter.
There is hope, or at least there was I thought
for one brief moment when the sunshine wrought
the clouds, until they reformed ranks and fired in return.
The sun cannot match this cold assassin,
his distance seems his fatal mistake.

I am winter.
It creeps upon me with such stealth and cunning,
easing it’s way into my heart…
The trees seem to glow encased in its beauty
Until their groaning is heard while listening closely
and you come to realize they’re dying..

I am winter.
You know me well so just settle in
Your heart my home, my cold your sin
My life your death, My death your life
Pray for spring, or grow bitter within
God help us, will winter ever end?