Planet Arson

It started with a match
Just a slender, brittle flame

The Magic is Gone

I walked beneath the trees one winter's eve
And followed paths I'd trodden as a child

Musings in the Mud

Blue and green.

I see a lot of it working on a Christmas tree farm. In fact with hundreds of acres of pine trees it's nearly all I can see. The deep vault of Pennsylvania sky bends in to touch the mountains, and the countless conifers around me rise to meet it. Lately however, the sky has been dark and overcast, shutting the valley in like the lid on a coffin.

Dodging Raindrops

Tonight the wind blows bitter cold
Arms tight, I fight to keep out the chill

Barabass' Cross

You opened the eyes of those who were blind
I opened the throats of the innocent

Candles in the Day

Four minutes into my first day at the Tru Value warehouse I heard every four letter word I know, and several I don’t (rather not ask, thanks). The conversation topics were as coarse as the jokes, though I’d better not say what the jokes reminded me of. I found myself sighing. This is clearly not going to be a pro-Christian environment to work in. I wiped at the film of sweat that had already settled on my forehead in the stifling air. Curses and shouts flew back and forth like snowballs. Dirty snowballs. This’ll be a long summer, God, I thought. It feels like such a dark environment, since not many here seem to know you.