The Lie


How strange
that we create tales
of robots who feel

Who wonder and love
and rejoice in all the
emotions of humanity

When so many of us
plod around like automatons
hearts frozen to the cries of others
and to the cries
of their own


Love and Possibility

On the hill, the sky is promised
Over the sea, the horizon of a fantastic land
And in your laughter, eternal joy carouses.
Yet, between the space of our joined hands
Resides the feeling they are merely shades of.