Tag Archives: poetry

Meeting Mason

I remember waking up those frigid cold mornings. The window, which nearly kissed the side of my bed, was casted with frost around the tips of its fingers. The center however gave site to the purest blend of blue and white December had ever seen.

I had nothing to look forward to that day so I proceeded to throw on my boots and snag myself a jacket. I layered the jacket with a wool flannel and caped things off with a thick and furry stocking cap.

Their was a wonderful path on the west side of town that tip toed the ice caped river. Like young boys chasing one another through the park the path hugged every shank and dogwood the river could throw it. It really was a calm place that time of year.

I made my way down the winding trail, before I decided to soak in the scenery on a snowcapped bench. I brushed off the snow and took a load of my boots. There was a terrific overcast grey sky, one that felt cold, yet very welcoming at the exact same time. The trees completely bare, like a child fresh from the womb, reached their arms high and wide, grasping for any warmth they could. The ground was hard this time of year but the fresh snow gave decent cushion.

As I peered into the surroundings I felt a connection with the images around me. I had never felt such energy from the environment. I closed my eyes and began to imagine the face of my surroundings.

I saw a weathered man. One who had seen prosperous fields in the warm summers, as well as the cold tundra’s of winter that showed no hope of growth. Deep wrinkles in his forehead told stories of trials and tribulations. His eyebrows bushier than I would have imagined showed a film of travel in the dusty west of Texas. His eyes portrayed hurt, unexpected goodbyes, and a hope that this cant be how it all ends.

I felt in the presence of the old man. I whispered to the sky to breathe easy. To know that no matter the length of the seasons, no matter the severity of heat, or the despair of cold, we would be there for him.



You And I.

When the day comes, and the heart inside my chest slows it pace, when there Is no more time to waste, I will die, just like you, and you just like I

When I transcend to the heavens above or the depths far beneath, I will no longer question the validity of the feat, for I rest amongst my fellow sinners and saints.

When I settle in to this timeless life and grip deep the truth, you are just like me, me just like you.

Then I will grasp the question of time, that while we are living we are all of the same kind.

Though skin of different shades, the flesh still remains, a like as it has since we first uttered our name.

What a tragedy we have believed our very own senses, for while we think with our minds they yet remain senseless.

Our eyes they deceived us, in believing its true, now I truly can see, you are I and I am you.

From the first moments of light, to the last moments of breath I realize we are no different, than that of the rest.

So live with the ideal that we are all much alike, for when we die it makes not a difference, nor black or nor white.

  • Trent