All thorny Gordian knots

begin as minor tangles,

inconvenient, nothing more,

until some damned blind fool

decides that he, and he alone,

can somehow see the right of it

and thus begins to pull,

with all his sanctimony

and self-righteous might,

upon some random thread,

all the while oblivious

of the end result!

The harder that he pulls,

the tighter that new knot becomes.

Until, in the end,

the knot becomes so tight,

It will likely take

decades of concerted work

from many patient, caring souls

to undo the damage

wrought in but a moment

of unthinking haste

or uncaring arrogance.

A Melancholy Spring

Songbirds bring no joy

for all their urgent chirping.

Leaves collect, unraked,

along poolside patio.

Grass leaps joyously

skyward, mower still garaged.

Winter deadfall lays

untended about, unburned.

Daffodils came; went

unseen and unphotographed.

Irises glow now

in varicolored splendor

yet scarcely noticed,

in passing, by a weary

soul, slowly, recovering.

Doesn’t Everyone?

Sometimes I ache.

It’s part of being me.

Doesn’t everyone?

Sometimes I fear

that which I can not control.

Doesn’t everyone?

Sometimes my pain and fear

drive me to unwise actions.

Doesn’t everyone’s?

Sometimes I regret

the consequences of those acts.

Doesn’t everyone?

Sometimes I hope

I can be a better soul.

Doesn’t everyone?

Sometimes I pray

for a divine guiding hand.

Doesn’t everyone?

Sometimes I love.

Doesn’t everyone?

Doesn’t everyone?