My Longing

The longing.
My longing.
For a little note.
A little note in the end.
In the end of the day.
The day that I lived.
I lived thinking.
Thinking.
Thinking and hoping.
Like a child.
A child ignorant of harm.
Harm from reasons.
Reasons for kindness.
Kindness and caring.
Caring without taking.
Without taking.
But asking.
Asking.
Asking for more.
More of this.
This longing.
For a little note.
For just a little note.

Stream, Stream

Stream, Oh stream
of a brook, wherein their fins glitter
in streaks of light under water,
will you never rest to twitter.
I look into you on a humdrum shore.

Faces around every bend
await your purl, so down you go.
Jubilant are you to the end
and your odyssey be ever so.

Float me, stream, to where I belong,
like the pebbles rolling light and free,
and the leaves drifting along.
Float me down gently to the sea.

My Kind of Spirituality

I want to know the answers to which
my godly friends cannot answer.

I want to see the reason why
I must have a reason why not.

I want to understand the greatness
of our creation called the creator. Amen.

At my very last moment, I want never to utter
"Damn it!" It just seems peaceful.