Now look here, lonesome tree!
It’s quite alright to be on your own.
Even as the winds blow & fog sets in,
Nothing changes how deep your roots have grown.

Though your branches may get broken,
And your leaves may fly away,
Remember that it’s your unseen depth,
That makes all things new another day.

Though the ground be lain uneven,
Upon which you’ve made your stand,
It’s in your bones to grow towards heaven,
As if drawn up by God’s own hand.

Lonesome tree, you were built for this,
You’ll find loss of leaf, seed, & limb makes you stronger.
For the storm will water where they fall,
Then around you they’ll grow, leaving you lonesome not one minute longer.

So hold on, you pretty thing!
Fear not these uncertain hours.
Around you grows in silent a forest,
That will ever mimic you in strength unparalleled power.


There’s a valley in the mountains,
It’s restored my soul from something tragic.
It’s where beauty flows just like a fountain,
And makes me whole with its quiet magic.

There’s a meadow bound by ageless pines,
Upon it my mind’s eye oft is set to wander.
When thought departs from this glory divine,
Every notion is toil & squander.

There’s a rushing river cut through the woods,
Hellbent towards its destiny.
My heart found new life on its bank as I stood,
Breathing deep of this pure reverie.

There’s a peak that’s befriended the stars & clouds,
Atop it I learned the meaning of wonder.
For here I strong endured on this summit so proud,
As one too capable to ever be blown asunder.

These places I’ve know forever & well,
To their splendor I’m eternally indebted,
Destined to be ever-enraptured by their spell,
Always deeper into this grandeur fate has me headed.


Sorrow—sweet sorrow!
How you bring strong men down to their knees.
Courage—sweet courage!
How you raise the feeble up to their feet.

Misery—sweet misery!
How you’ve taught us to be grateful.
Kindness—sweet kindness!
How you change the hearts of even the most hateful.

Ambition—sweet ambition!
How you fasten unfocused sights onto the prize.
Discernment—sweet discernment!
How you cause good men flee from greed & lies.

Wanderlust—sweet wanderlust!
How you beg the meek to roam.
Comfort—sweet comfort!
How you hearken the wild ones home.

Life—sweet life!
How I delight in the unyielding grip of thee.
Death—sweet death!
How lucky you’ll feel if ever you manage to catch me.

”Oz, The Great & Powerful”

I met in the wild a white-haired gent,
Of a girl he once knew I reminded him.
“She was fair, she was pure, her ear always lent,
But one day her brightness went dim.”

“Go on! Go on!” of him I began to plead,
“Please tell me the rest of the tale,
What happened to her? Why does her heart bleed?
What wretch made her happiness fail?”

“Hear the truth, my dear girl,” he started to say,
“She was both hero & villain–her own enemy.
She ran wild & untamed, welcomed every new day,
But a creeping desire for more stole her ‘free.’

She traded joy for hunger & simplicity for thirst,
The greenest grass always just up ahead.
She abandoned humility & put herself first,
With the devil of greed & fortune she climbed into bed.

One day she woke to find,
She knew not the girl in the mirror.
Then with lightless eyes & dreamless mind,
She set out to the one place where she might see clearer.

She became honest & pure–made that devil a liar,
She no longer forgets in her travels afar,
That if what you seek is your heart’s great desire,
You ought check at home first, it might be in your own backyard.”

“Not Even Solomon”

She dreamt once that she was a rose,
Beautiful, fragrant & the most beloved of kings.
She woke once to find she was a daisy,
Whose loveliness unworthy of a song to sing.

Her heart grew heavy in her chest,
And her spirit fell downtrodden,
She swayed alone, unnoticed by any,
A simple truth she had forgotten.

The thing about pretty flowers is,
They get plucked from their roots & brought indoors.
And it’s there we ask they live out their lives,
Very quietly, very beautifully, & growing never more.

But the wildflower knows the sway of the wind,
And its petals the warmth of the sun.
It spends its days stretching up towards the light,
Roots deepening right up ’til its last day is done.

Now she dreams of being that daisy,
Living wild & free & young.
She worries not of those who might contain her,
And in the breeze she hears a new song of beauty sung.


The places I’ve come to fear the most,

Where purpose and futility meet,

My heart exhausted these places encountered,

My soul too weary finds defeat.


And succumb I must to the beauty of a flower,

Grown wild in a meadow so deep,

For what is “beauty” that extends not my days,

But draws me back into a moment I’m forbidden to keep?


Oh what a shame that my life’s great obsession,

Satisfies not physical hunger but that of adventure.

My thirst never quenched, and back never clothed,

Yet my spirit finds warmth in this indenture.


In this joy I’ll find my water.

In this serenity I’ll find my bread.

And to this idle, aimless siren,

My weary soul to be ever wed.