In this vast world, you were borrn in pure nakedness.

This does not matter, for it was

Not Fit For Sinning

I hit the wall at forty-five,
A form not fit for sinning
Showed beginnings of a spread
And hair both gray

The day is spent.  The night enfolds,
the eyelids warn of sleep,
The arms and legs do NOT as told,
they hope alert to

In essence he was

but a lone soul

waiting for salvation.

Crippled by fear.

Deceived by fate.

Alone to steer his ship 

Forever,

we thought it would last.

It seemed as if never

was when it would end.

Summer sweat,

sweet tang of dirt;

hard