I saw you, and I saw a story.


So many things brought you here today, just as they brought me.

I picture your history – filled with love and pain and the determination that led to the breaths you now draw.

And it seems to me that the souls you harbor beneath those shells of a body aren’t altogether that different.


I saw you, but I didn’t ask you for your story.

For I imagine it is much like my own.


A Dream

You know it’s a dream when you’re willing to give up everything else, just in case it might come true.

You know it’s a dream when you can’t imagine life any other way.

You know it’s a dream when you look at a sunrise but the picture in your mind is even more beautiful.



Some people miss home.

But I don’t. I miss the road.

I miss the miles and minutes passing by ‘neath the melody of an engine.

I miss looking over and seeing you – sleeping, laughing, telling me stories.

I miss sunsets in Tennessee and sunrises over Chicago.

I miss scary gas stations at 3am.

I miss conversations that are as free as we are, and go on for hours.

I miss being that kind of happy.

I miss not being here.

Because out there…that’s my home.


We do not grieve as those without hope.

We do not hide as those who live in fear.

We do not sit as those who cannot stand up to darkness.

We do not despair as those who think this is the end.

We do not breathe as those who wish to take their last.

We do not sing as those who hear nothing but an empty melody.

We do not rest as those who live in constant slumber.

We do not fight as those who expect to lose.

We do not persevere as those who have no Ally.

Killing the Fire


How do you put out a fire without water?

Without dirt to bury the flames?

It’s too hot to contain in your hands,

So hot you feel you’re already burned.

All you want is to be rid of it forever.

But whenever you get close, it scorches your soul.


If you turn away, memories of the heat are inescapable,

You find yourself drawing close once more.

Always, there is a strange hope that perhaps this time the flames won’t burn,

Maybe comforting embers will warm you instead.

But the sparks still fly and the smoke stings your eyes.


There’s only one way to put out a fire like this.


Smother the glow with hours and months and years.

Then one day you’ll look back at that corner of your heart that used to be ablaze, and only see darkness.

The cool, calm darkness that accompanies peace.